


castles and windmills (like so)

by sunflowerbright



Category: Tanz der Vampire - Steinman/Kunze
Genre: Alfred and Herbert are too in love and too good at hiding, Alfred fails at vampire, Canon Typical Violence, Happy Birthday Shirin!, M/M, but it doesn't really feature much, hints and allusions to ideas of suicide, one-sided alfred/sarah, there is so much sulking in this fic i apologise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerbright/pseuds/sunflowerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It didn’t matter either way. Herbert would grow bored of him soon enough, and then he wouldn’t even have a castle and a crypt to be miserable in. He’d have nothing but the cold outside.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. castles and windmills

**Author's Note:**

> [Shirin](http://marcliebisch.co.vu/) requested fic: '... at first Alfred is apprehensive and unhappy to be back at the castle, but he slowly starts befriending Herbert who is trying to restrain himself as much as he can to make it easier for Alfred and they slowly fall in love.'
> 
> Happy birthday!

 

Alfred was not panicking. Most definitely not. And he wasn’t _sulking_ either, no matter what it might look like. Sulking would mean that he cared, and all Alfred cared about right now was getting out of here and go back to…

Where, exactly, was he supposed to go?

He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t go back to the village. The villagers would – oh god – stake him on sight. Going out and looking for the Professor might well end in the same result. Provided that the Professor was still alive. Alfred wasn’t sure. He felt bad that he didn’t feel worse about that thought, but right now his head was swimming, brimming, with other things, and the first and foremost was that he was _cold._

Which made sense, considering that he was… that he was _dead_. His skin was cold, his heart no longer beating and keeping up the warmth that had once been so present. But that was also negating, in a sense: how could he still feel it? The cold, and his own heart, even?

He didn’t know. The Professor’s studies hadn’t covered this. How they were transformed, how they fed, how they were killed. That had been the gist of it. Never… never how to _live_ like one.

Now wasn’t that a conundrum all on its own.

Except it wasn’t either. Alfred felt like he knew what the Professor would have done in his situation. He would have ended it – rather do that than go on like this for the rest of eternity.

 _You could go after Sarah,_ his mind supplied, but he immediately rejected the thought. She’d run off without him, after killing him even, and if nothing else made it clear what she thought about him, well, that at least did.

Not that he blamed her. Alfred had a tendency of ending up alone no matter where he went. Sarah deserved more, deserved the whole world, and now as a vampire, she could cradle it in the palm of her hand. Even trying to deny her that would be selfish and wrong, and Alfred was many things, but those two he tried his best to shy away from.

And so, he was left alone.

“Oh, Alfreeed?”

Or, somewhat alone. There were still a few other, if not living, at least _animate_ and awake people in the house with him. Of course, calling it a house would be wrong. It was a castle, with everything a castle should have, including a dark and damp crypt which he was currently hiding and sulking in.

(except he wasn’t hiding, and he definitely wasn’t sulking)

“Alfred? Alfred, honestly, are you still down there?”

He didn’t answer the sing-song voice, instead pulling his knees up towards his chest, hugging himself close and feeling, for a lack of better word, pathetic. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been down here, but he was sure it wasn’t long enough.

Even if he was almost as cold as he had been, falling into the snow, a sharp pain in his neck. It had _hurt_ , and it had hurt even more knowing what was going to happen.

Alfred didn’t remember much of what had happened afterwards. There’d been a flurry, and he had tried attacking the Professor, and then Sarah had tried attacking the Professor, and Alfred was sure that he had seen him fend her off, at least for a little while. The next thing he remembered was strong arms carrying him back to the castle, and someone whispering to him until he fell back asleep.

He’d woken up in a coffin and only just managed to strangle the scream before it left his throat.

“Alfred, if you’re not going to answer me, I’m going to come down there and make you!”

Of course he was. Just like he’d made a shivering and scared Alfred climb out of the coffin and walk with him upstairs. Just like he’d made him take a mouthful of blood, and then another when he spat the first one out, and then finally losing his patience and throwing the bottle at the wall when Alfred had spat the second mouthful out too, and storming out in a huff.

Alfred’s throat had been burning. His hands were still healing from where he had nicked them on the broken glass as he desperately tried soaking up the blood, first cleaning the mess and then… and then…

He could still taste it, _in his mouth_ , and the most horrible thing of all was that it hadn’t felt horrible, drinking it, not at all.

A shadow passed over him, almost-silent footsteps coming to a halt: the only reason Alfred could even hear them was because his ears were on high alert now, could hear _everything,_ even the thunderous silence that followed the lack of a heartbeat.

Alfred didn’t look up, despite his brain warning him that ignoring Herbert would not be a wise choice. The vampire was the only reason he was _here_ after all, getting him all the way back and tucking him in like he was a child (in a _coffin!)_ and trying to _feed him_ , and now coming for him and acting like an over-bearing parent scolding their child.

Herbert had probably gotten scolded by his father quite a few times, and if Alfred wasn’t so cold and miserable, the mental image would have made him smile.

It didn’t matter either way. Herbert would grow bored of him soon enough, and then he wouldn’t even have a castle and a crypt to be miserable in. He’d have nothing but the cold outside. Maybe then he would go to the villagers, and they could do the job he couldn’t.

“You’re _sulking_ ,” the vampire above him said, with a tone like it wasn’t an action he participated in at least seven times a day ( _night_ ), and Alfred doing so was a great grievance and insult to them all.

Alfred’s only response was to tighten his grip on his legs and pressing his forehead against his knees, trying to block out the world. Trying to block out the ruthless, obsessive, clingy vampire still hovering over him.

 _Just give me five seconds_ , he thought. It was all he was going to get, after all. Any minute now, Herbert would leave in a huff, or more likely, reach down and force him to look up at him, to pay him the attention he so dearly sought after, at all times.

It didn’t happen. Instead, Herbert let out a quiet sigh, and then Alfred could hear a rustling as the vampire moved, and…

And sat down on the dirty floor across him, leaning against the wall. Herbert stretched out his legs, bumping one of his feet against Alfred’s, but aside from that made no move to touch him or forcefully draw him out of his almost catatonic state.

Alfred sat in shock, wondering what kind of trick this was, until Herbert finally spoke.

“Father says you’re still in shock and that we must be careful, or you will do something while not in your right mind.” His voice was kept low, not even echoing off the walls of the crypt like it had been before. It was almost soothing. Alfred felt even more pathetic for clinging to that, even if just for a second.

Herbert shifted, as if he was fidgeting, and wasn’t that just odd, a vampire not sure what to do with them self. “You won’t though, will you?” he asked, and the question was spoken so softly, his voice tentative and hesitant and Alfred wanted desperately to look up at him, for reasons he could not comprehend, but he steeled himself against them and kept his head bowed.

He held his silence long enough that Herbert sighed again, and in another rustling of expensive clothes ( _Alfred would not admit to almost smiling when Herbert muttered a short curse about_ stains _on the silk_ ) got up from his spot. He hesitated again – and it was _so odd_ , the vampire acting like this – before taking the step separating them, and reaching down before stopping again.

“You are free to leave if you want,” he said, the tips of his fingers and long nails just barely brushing Alfred’s hair. It sent a shiver down his spine. “You are free to stay, as well.”

And with that, he left Alfred alone in the crypt again. To sulk and hide.

*

Alfred eventually did emerge from the crypt, because really, there wasn’t much of anything else to do. He was only getting colder down there, feeling it from the inside out, and what was more, he was getting _hungry._

The first person he encountered was Magda, on the stairs with a tray that smelled _delicious_ , and Alfred would have been more fixated on it if he wasn’t so surprised to see her.

“Magda?” he croaked out. “You’re…”

“Present,” she told him with a fang-y grin that made him want to take a step back, before realising they matched, now. “And here bearing gifts.”

His fangs were poking sharply at his lower lips as he stared at what she was carrying.

“The Count sent me down,” she told him, placing the tray on the dusty steps between them, sitting down on another and nudging him slightly with her foot. Alfred took the hint, most of his attention still on the blood on the tray, and sat down one step further down from her. She gathered her skirt around her and smiled widely at him.

“That was nice of him,” Alfred muttered. “But I’m…”

“Not hungry?” she asked, already pouring the red liquid into the glass. Alfred watched it trickle down and licked his lips without thinking. “You should eat something. It will only get worse if you don’t.”

And that – the knowledge that it would get worse, that he could possibly feel worse than this, coming from a person he had still known when he was human, when _they_ were human…

Alfred gulped down greedily, and didn’t even have the sense to be embarrassed when Magda smiled and dabbed his chin with the edge of her skirt, wiping away the blood that had run down in his haste to still his thirst.

“There.” She said, when she had finished. “Now you’re perfect.”

He ducked his head, his gaze finding his hands, curled together in his lap. The stone felt cold under him, and his skin felt cold against itself – wrong, all wrong, he knew. Why was everything so cold?

“Feeling better?”

He wondered why she was being so kind to him. Perhaps, if he and the Professor had never come, she would have still had her life.

“A little,” he said, though in truth he wasn’t sure. He felt hollowed out still, and while he could feel the warmth from the blood spreading, he was still undeniably cold. “And you?”

She smiled so brightly at him again, and Alfred thought, perhaps for the first time since meeting her, that she really was very beautiful.

“I am _excellent_ ,” she said. “The Count let me kick Chagal out. Unfortunately he can’t freeze to death, but you know, maybe the villagers will take him.”

She was still smiling too brightly, and her words were hitting too close to the thoughts that Alfred himself had entertained earlier.

“But don’t you… aren’t you… you can’t just…”

Suddenly the smile was gone, and Alfred almost recoiled in shock at the look on Magda’s face.

“He was a pathetic and low person even when he was human,” she said, her eyes far away. “I am glad to be rid of him, just as his daughter and wife without a doubt are.”

The mention of Sarah didn’t make Alfred feel better at all. Luckily, Magda seemed to visibly shake the look off, smiling at him again.

“You were on your way up?”

“Ah,” Alfred hesitated, but only for a moment. She had caught him on his way, after all. “Yes.”

“Herbert will be pleased,” she said. “He’s been cooped up in his room since he went back up, and he only does that when he’s sulking or reading, and he always sulks _loudly_ , so I know he wasn’t reading.”

 _But how can you know_ , Alfred thought. Magda had not been here that long. Not much longer than him – his entire world had changed in a manner of days, and he was still reeling from it. The same had happened to Magda, and not only was she taking it graciously, she seemed all the better for it. He wanted to hate her, for slipping into the role of a monster so easily. But she did look truly happy.

“You’ve become friends,” he said slowly, rising to follow her up the stairs.

Magda looked back down at him from over her shoulder. “Herbert’s simply the best,” she told him and walked out of the crypt without another word.

Alfred followed.

*

He did not find Herbert sulking in his room: instead, he located him in the library, sitting in one of the ancient chairs with his feet propped up on the even older table, a heavy book in his hands.

Alfred tip-toed in and was dismayed to find that Herbert did not react at all to his presence. He had gone looking for him because he wanted to apologise, or thank him, or perhaps beg for him to let him stay, because Magda’s smile and the look in her eyes when she had told him of Chagal’s fate sent shivers down his spine. But with the other vampire ignoring him so completely, Alfred had no idea how to start the conversation. So instead he walked over to one of the shelves, doing his best to appear distracted while trying to come up with something to say.

He let his fingers run over the leather-bound spines, delighting in the way the letters curled, engraved and shaping under his fingers. Alfred had always loved books, and stories, delighting in them when there was little else to be had early in his life. Seeing so many books in one place had taken his breath away when he had first seen it, and now that he had no breath to be taken, it still left him slightly reeling.

So many books. And he had all the time he needed to read them.

He just wasn’t sure if that was what he really wanted. Would the Count let him stay, he wondered, would _Herbert_ let him stay, just sitting here and reading for the rest of eternity? He would try not to be a bother. He would try, because he was not sure that he had any other choice.

 _Books or a stake,_ he idly thought, and couldn’t stop a small smile from curling his lips. With that in mind, he turned around slightly again, looking at Herbert.

“What are you reading?” he asked, keeping his voice low: he knew he would be heard in the silence of the room.

“A book,” was Herbert’s reply, and it might have been wistful thinking, but Alfred thought he saw his lips twitch slightly, as if he was trying not to smile. And then he put it down on the table and stood up, turning to look directly at Alfred. He had forgotten quite how unnerving that intense stare was.

“Done hiding?” Herbert asked, and Alfred could not tell from his tone if the question was mocking or just curious. He looked away quickly.

“Yes,” he said. “I mean… Y-yes, I’m… I won’t cause any trouble.” He was fidgeting he knew, pulling at the edges of his coat in nervousness. There was a rush of air, and when he looked up Herbert was right in front of him. He jumped in fright, clearly surprising Herbert as well: he took a step back, a look of displeasure on his face.

“S-sorry,” Alfred stammered, hoping he had not insulted him. “I didn’t…”

“You’re _afraid_ of me,” Herbert said, a frown on his face: he sounded for all the world like a petulant child, but Alfred thought he caught a sliver of actual hurt on his face, and that…

He felt cold.

“No!” he burst out. “I mean yes! I mean… I’m… you tried to bite me!”

Herbert gaped down at him. “Well, of _course_ I did! Father said I could, and I wanted…”

“What?” Alfred interrupted, _interrupted_ the vampire, suddenly losing some of his long-held patience. “You wanted to bite me, so you just went ahead and tried, without even asking?”

At that, Herbert let out a huff. “Your answer would have been no, would it not?”

“It would have!”

“And then?”

“And then…” Alfred stopped, hesitating. “And then you shouldn’t have bit me.”

Herbert’s eyes glinted in the low candle-light. “Did your dear Sarah ask for permission?”

Alfred’s mouth went dry. “She wasn’t… she didn’t…”

“She didn’t care about you,” said Herbert, his turn to interrupt now. He sounded dangerous and Alfred almost recoiled, losing all of his bravado at once. “She still doesn’t. Not one whit.”

 _No_ , he thought. She didn’t. But that wasn’t why she had bit him. She had bit him because she had had no control over herself. Because the Count had turned her into something else, a wild beast that had not yet learned the art of restraint.

“I know,” he muttered and looked down, at his shoes and at the ground, because suddenly that seemed better than seeing the vindictive look on Herbert’s face. The pleasure at knowing that he was right and that, as usual, someone had yet again failed to care about Alfred.

Herbert surprised him again. Gentle fingers cradled his chin and made him look up. Herbert’s eyes were searching his face, but for what Alfred wasn’t sure. He was uncomfortable, standing so close like this, but not enough to draw away. He just hoped it wasn’t pity. He would almost rather that Herbert throw him out, than have his pity.

And then the vampire sighed deeply out through his nose, and let go of Alfred again. “Tsch,” he muttered. “We’ll have to find you a new coffin. The sun’s coming up soon, and we can’t have you staying in that old and horrid thing from last night.”

Alfred blinked in confusion. What had just happened?

“Um,” he started, but stopped again, because he was not sure what to say. Had Herbert not just been about to yell at him some more? Tell him how unloved he was? How unsuited to life – to unlife, he supposed – as a vampire he was going to be?

“Oh! I still have my old one, in one of the guest-rooms!” Herbert exclaimed then, clasping his hands together in delight. “Cousin Netta uses it when she stays over, but I’m sure she won’t mind. She can bring her own, lazy little thing, she hates lugging it all the way from London, but I say she’s just going to have to.”

“Um,” Alfred very intelligently repeated. “You’re not going to… I can stay?”

Herbert stopped, tilted his head and fixed his gaze back on Alfred. “But of course,” he said. “You can stay.”

He wanted to accept. He wanted to smile and thank him and go look at the coffin (even though that thought made his insides shudder) and try to… move on.

Instead, he opened his mouth again.

“Would you have really bit me?” he asked, mentally kicking himself but not able to stop his mouth from running amok. Herbert looked surprised, before he became serious all over again.

“Yes,” he practically purred, and another shiver went down Alfred’s spine.

“Why?” he asked, and prayed that he did not sound too demanding.

Herbert walked towards him again, stopping all too close. He was not that much taller than Alfred, but he still had to crane his neck to look up at him. Bravely, he did so.

“This castle is very big,” he said. “With so few people in it.”

Whatever he had been expecting, that answer was not it. And then Herbert’s face broke into a smile, and he leaned forward, lighting-quick, his lips only just brushing Alfred’s.

“And because it would be a waste to let such _pretty_ eyes go blind with old age! Don’t you think so?” he let out a low laugh and then walked out, leaving a very befuddled Alfred behind.

*

In the night – _in the day_ – when he was sleeping, Alfred dreamt of cold hands all over his body, and Sarah’s fangs biting his neck until it was raw and exposed, bleeding him out slowly.

In the dream, he did not wake up again.

*

“This library is horribly chaotic,” he told Magda three nights later, sitting on the floor of said library and perusing through the stack of books that had been left there. She was sitting in the chair that Herbert had previously been in, her legs thrown over the armrest, her fingers running through her hair, trying to brush it or curl it, Alfred wasn’t sure. He didn’t much care either. Not that he did not care for Magda’s company – she had stuck around with him the most these last few nights, bringing him blood and sitting with him for at least a little in the library, which was the only place, aside from the room he had been assigned, that he frequented. He would like to think that they were becoming friends, but in his isolation, even the mice that sometimes scurried around the place seemed to count as such.

Magda at least, was pleasant and much more intelligent than she let on, and while Alfred had a sense that the Count and his son both had asked her to keep an eye on their new resident, he also felt like she at least didn’t mind being in his presence. She would often throw him smiles that seemed genuine, and she had seemed honestly interested when he had told her about some of the Professor’s work.

“You should fix that,” she said. “I’m sure the Count wouldn’t mind.”

Alfred stopped and considered: the Count had let him stay, surprising him on that second night and plainly and not unpleasantly broken down the few rules in the house.

Which mainly seemed to boil down to don’t play with matches, don’t disturb the sleepers, and don’t bring your food back home without permission first. To say that Alfred had been disturbed would have been an understatement, but the Count had left it at that and Alfred supposed that meant he really could stay.

“Perhaps,” he said, getting up from his seat on the floor and stretching his limbs, one of the books still in hand. It was a history volume, and he had caught notes in an oddly familiar handwriting on some of the pages: he wondered what it would be like, looking at history through the eyes of someone that had actually been there while it happened.

“I’m going down to the stables later,” Magda said, stretching out her legs and picking at her stockings. “Do you want to come? The horses they have here are lovely.”

“Horses,” Alfred muttered, and wondered if they fed on them. He hoped not – he _really_ hoped not.

_Is human better?_

His stomach gave a kick and his fangs pricked at his lips. He closed his mouth firmly.

“I think I’ll pass,” he said. “Thank you for the offer, however. I would like to take you up on it later.”

Magda snickered behind her hand. “You’re so _polite_. I bet that’s why he likes you so much.”

Alfred blinked at her in confusion and was about to ask her what she meant, but she was already leaving, blowing him a kiss on the way out.

 _Vampires_ , he thought with an inner sigh, putting the books neatly on the table _(who left books on the_ floor _, it was a travesty)_ , before deciding to go read in his own room for a little while, feeling like the library was suddenly all-together too large for just him to sit in all day.

Of course, he only managed to turn one corner before he wasn’t alone anymore at all.

“Oh,” he exclaimed as he bumped into someone else’s chest, quickly taking a step backwards and righting himself. “Oh, I’m so sorry… Herbert.”

Said vampire was smiling down at him brightly and it was making Alfred want to hide.

“Hello!” he said, looking delighted. “Ah, you’re looking much better!”

Alfred swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Um. Ah. Thank you.”

“I was getting very worried, you know, but Magda told me I was being silly,” Herbert kept ranting on, his eyes oddly… soft. Alfred hesitated to call any of the vampires ‘soft’ in any way, but there it was. “But father told me that some people have a hard time with the… whole change.” Something _different_ shifted in Herbert’s eyes then, and it wasn’t soft but it wasn’t angry either, so Alfred did not feel any fear. “I thought perhaps he was overreacting too, and Magda kept insisting you were fine as well.”

 _Why didn’t you just check up on me yourself_ , Alfred thought, but forced the question back.

“Well, I am,” he said, doing his best to sound convincing. Alfred had never been a very good liar. “I am completely fine.”

Herbert did not look at all like he believed him, but he was smiling still, at least.

“Good! I wanted to show you something – you have been locked up inside this dusty library for so long now, I thought you might want to step outside.”

 _No_ , Alfred thought. It was _cold_ outside.

“I-I’m… it would be… I would really rather…”

Herbert blinked and _pouted_ , and Alfred had absolutely no idea what to say.

“Your lungs will get all clocked up by the dust,” he informed Alfred, his voice grave. “Even as a vampire, that is very unpleasant. You will be coughing for days, and we will all have to listen to it. Outside the air is _fresh_ , and I am positive that you have _never_ seen the moon as bright as it is in this moment!”

Alfred couldn’t help it – he smiled. It was hard not to, when faced with someone so seemingly enthusiastic.

“W-what did you want to show me?” he asked, getting his voice under control much quicker than he would have thought himself able.

Herbert’s eyes glinted. “It’s a surprise.” He said, and handed Alfred his coat. He reached out and took it slowly. It was odd: it wasn’t like he needed it, but if there was a certain intent behind the gesture, Alfred thought he appreciated it. But still.

“Did you go through my things?” he asked, frowning slightly though there was no real accusation in his tone. This was the Krolock’s house after all (no, their _castle_ ) and they could pretty much do what they wanted. As evidenced. Several times.

“Yes,” Herbert said, then stilled. “Do you mind?”

“A bit.” Alfred admitted, and immediately kicked himself, but Herbert only smiled at him fondly.

“Ah, I apologise darling. I only wanted to surprise you.”

And suddenly, Alfred _wanted_ to go out into the air –fresh and clean and with a crescent moon shining down brightly from the sky.

 _It’s not the sun_ , he thought, looking at it as they ventured through the snow. _But it is beautiful._

“Here!” Herbert said, dragging him along with a firm grip around his wrist. It hurt slightly, Herbert probably not realising his own strength – still stronger than Alfred even now that he was no longer human. It was a bit akin to being dragged by an over-eager puppy, and Alfred found that he still wanted to smile. “Look!”

“Oh,” Alfred muttered. They were standing by a large lake, just at the edge of the forest surrounding the castle. It was completely iced over, but with the moon and the stars above, swirling shades of blue were intertwining with white across the surface. Alfred was not sure if it was simply the place and the time making it look like this, or if being like this had enhanced his senses enough to… to _see._

It was, all in all, quite a spectacular surprise.

He wasn’t sure how long he just stood there staring foolishly at an icy _lake_ , but at some point he became aware that Herbert was looking at him. Feeling slightly embarrassed he turned to face him, and was hit with how fondhe looked.

“Um,” Alfred was grasping for words. “Thank you.”

Herbert beamed. “You’re welcome. Oh, we should see how thick the ice is!” he said, and then proceeded to run off towards the lake. Alfred squashed down the urge to stop him: he doubted that he could, and either way, falling through the ice would not hurt Herbert at all. He couldn’t drown or freeze to death. Most likely, he would only sulk because his clothes and hair had been ruined.

“You must be surprised at how much life he shows,” a voice from behind him interrupted his thoughts, and Alfred yelped and jumped approximately seven feet into the air in fright. He turned around just fast enough to catch the amused look on Count von Krolock’s face, before the elder vampire turned to look at his son again.

Alfred desperately tried to come up with a reply, and failed.

“What have your Professor told you about us, I wonder,” he continued, as if a reply from Alfred had not been necessary. “That we are all soulless and evil?”

A beat. “Yes. Sir,” he added as an afterthought. The Count looked amused again. Alfred wondered if he could dive down under the snow and just hide.

“Nothing more than a plague upon humanity,” the Count said, watching his son balance on the ice, waving at Magda who had appeared in the distance, a bright red and black spot amidst the white of the snow.

“Alfred!” Herbert had turned around and was waving him down now, and Alfred turned to the Count only to find him already gone.

“ _Alfred!”_ Herbert called again, more insistently, and Alfred moved faster than he thought he was able, almost tripping in the snow.

“Oh,” he said, embarrassed yet grateful when he hit the ice and Herbert grasped hold of his arm to steady him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t slip,” he admonished, laughing at him. “You’ll fall and bruise that cute behind.”

“ _Herbert!”_ Alfred exclaimed, feeling mortified, but the vampire only laughed and spun him on the ice, a firm grip making sure he never fell. It was, Alfred thought, dangerously close to when they had just met, except this time, he didn’t feel so afraid.

*

“No direct sunlight,” Alfred said, shifting in the large and plushy sofa to find a comfortable way to sit that would insure he wasn’t all up in Herbert’s personal space – even though the vampire really didn’t seem to mind. “But can I stay up during the… during the day?”

“Yes,” Herbert said. “You will just feel weak and eventually grow very tired. So you might want to get some shut-eye, you know. Don’t want to lose any beauty sleep, even if you don’t need it.”

Alfred looked down in embarrassment. “So, when I… when the Professor and I was… the first day we were here…”

“You were making quite a ruckus,” Herbert said, studying his nails. “Loud enough to wake the dead.” He threw Alfred a smile that showed just a bit too much teeth. Alfred gaped at him.

“But if… but why didn’t you…”

“Father said he wanted to see what would happen,” Herbert continued. “And I was rather curious too. He would have been able to stop you before the hammer hit its mark. But you didn’t do it.”

No, he had not been able to drive a stake through the Counts heart, and he would not have been able to do it to Herbert, either. He wondered if it was that fact that allowed him to continue his existence in their home.

 _But if you had done it, you might have escaped with your life,_ he thought. _And Sarah. Sarah too._

Herbert was looking at him, as if waiting for an elaboration, but Alfred didn’t know what to say. He searched for a change of subject instead.

“Counting grain?”

“ _What?_ ”

He shifted. “You know. If I drop a bunch of grain, would you have to count them?”

Herbert stared at him. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Just silly superstition I guess.”

“The things humans come up with,” Herbert laughed, shaking his head. “What else?”

“No reflection?”

“No.”

“Can you turn into smoke?”

“What purpose would that serve?”

“A bat?”

“Oh, I remember that one! But no, I can’t. Father likes to have some flying around for dramatics, but I don’t think he ever actually turns into one.”

Alfred shifted, drawing his legs up to his chest, leaning against the armrest. “Silver?”

“Doesn’t hurt us. I never understood that one.”

“Can you turn into a wolf?”

“Wrong monster, dear. But I do like wolves. Father won’t let me keep one, he says it requires too much work and I don’t have the attention span,” Herbert sighed dramatically, as if being denied a giant man-slayer as a pet was the greatest sorrow on earth. “I had a cat when I was younger.” He frowned. “But she died. Poor Miss Frilly.”

Alfred smiled. “You named your cat Miss Frilly?”

“It is a perfectly good name for a cat,” Herbert said in a defensive tone, a look of surprise settling on his face when Alfred laughed out loud.

“No, it is, it definitely is.” He agreed. “I kept sparrows for a little while, on the roof of the university. Five. But then someone was up there and forgot to lock the cages properly and they all escaped.” He sometimes still wondered where they had gone to, if maybe one of them had flown as far as to come to this place, and if it had seen the boy that had once fed and cared for it so carefully.

Herbert was shifting closer now, looking interested. “You studied in Königsberg, yes?”

“Yes,” Alfred said. “But only for two and a half years before I went with the Professor. I wasn’t really…” he shut his mouth abruptly, feeling awkward. He didn’t usually talk about his past – there had never been anyone to ask, not even the Professor, who had been kind and understanding, but far too consumed in his work to sit and listen to some orphan boy talk about his sad life. The look Herbert had in his eyes, like he wanted nothing more than for Alfred to continue talking, didn’t actually help. People never looked that interested in what he had to say. It was unnerving, and Alfred was not sure how to keep talking about it at all.

“Garlic? Chagal brought some, but he got turned anyway…”

Herbert’s smile showed a hint of fang this time, and Alfred shifted a little further away. “The smell isn’t pleasant, but we learn to block that. Otherwise we’d be overwhelmed all the time. Aside from that, there’s nothing with it, really. But we let the villagers believe that its effective – rather that than have them go looking and finding something that actually works. Humans are pretty easy to fool. They do love their little acts of denial a lot.”

“Castles and windmills,” he agreed, ignoring the confused look Herbert threw him.

“But crucifixes works,” Alfred mused. “Although I guess they don’t work on Jewish vampires. Or Hindus. Or any of the other hundreds of religions out there.”

“You can always just knock them really hard on the head with it. Crucifixes are quite heavy,” Herbert said. Alfred laughed again, surprising himself.

“I guess. Although I suppose I can’t do that now,” he mumbled, though the thought did not give him as much sorrow as he would have thought it to. _My soul be damned._ “Can you hypnotise people?”

“Yes, to an extent.”

“An extent?”

“There’s a limit to what we can make people do. It depends on the person.”

Alfred shifted again. “Why didn’t you use it on… on me?” It would have been easy. Herbert could have bitten him before the Professor had time to come and save him.

Herbert was studying his fingernails now. “Maybe I didn’t want to.”

“Would it have worked?”

“Probably,” Herbert said, one eyebrow raised. “You are very malleable.”

“Hey!” Alfred let out, feeling affronted, and a surprised smile rose on Herbert’s face.

“You look so cute when you get all cross!” he told him, delighted, and Alfred ducked his head again.

“You’re teasing me.”

“Only once in a while, darling.”

 _I’m not your darling_ , Alfred thought, feeling tired. But he was still curious and this conversation was the most pleasant one he had had in what felt like ages. Herbert was much more intelligent than Alfred had first believed, and he did not get upset with Alfred like the Professor so often had, did not ignore him like Sarah or sneer at him like his teachers and classmates back at the university.

Mostly, he just acted like he wanted to listen to Alfred too. It was very discontenting. Alfred wasn’t really sure what was going on, or what to do with the knowledge that he could speak and actually be listened to.

It was an odd kind of pressure, almost. He wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t rather just go back to hiding in the corner, unnoticed and unmissed.

“The… the bite,” Alfred said then, to distract himself as much as asking because he was curious. “Does it always… do you always turn, if bitten?”

“No,” Herbert said. “You have to drain the person to the point that they’re dying. You don’t turn if you’re not dead first.”

Alfred gulped down his discomfort. He didn’t remember that part. He didn’t remember dying. He remembered the pain, excruciating pain, and then waking up and feeling cold and so very, very hungry.

A slim finger gently traced the shape of his chin for just a second, before withdrawing again.

“Did she hurt you?” he asked, and Alfred was unsure for a moment, what exactly it was that he was asking.

“It was agony,” he said. “I _died_. Isn’t it supposed to hurt?” he felt defensive all of the sudden. What, had he turned wrong? Was that even possible? If it was, it would just go to figure that it would happen to him.

Herbert tilted his head slightly. “I hardly remember it, but when I was turned it was not… pleasant, but I would not describe it as the worst pain I have ever been through either. Father had prepared me for a long time before, however. You were taken quite by surprise, I believe.”

He frowned. “So, the Count turned you?”

“Yes,” Herbert said, and Alfred felt weird, with Herbert offering this information so freely when he had clamped up so tightly before. Still, he was too intrigued to not venture further down this path.

“Are you adopted?”

“No,” Herbert said with a teasing smile on his face. Was he just going to keep answering in one-syllable words?

“So, he’s your biological father?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, but…” Alfred blinked, confused. “So when did….”

Herbert finally took pity on him, and deigned to explain. “He was turned by the same vampire that killed my mother,” he said, an old sadness in his eyes that turned his smile soft and tired. “I was very young at the time.”

“Oh,” said Alfred. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It was a very long time ago.”

 _How long?_ He desperately wanted to ask, but stopped himself. “So, he raised you? Until you were… old enough to be turned?”

“He gave me a choice in the matter, you know,” Herbert said, his voice slightly scolding even if it still maintained its indulgent edge. “I had friends both human and vampire when I was growing up.”

“And you decided to….” _to become a monster_. He didn’t want to finish his sentence. He didn’t want Herbert to hear Alfred call him that.

“I decided to stay with my father,” Herbert said, leaning back and stretching out his long legs, as if he was getting restless from sitting down for so long. Alfred would have thought a vampire would have a little more patience.

“That was good of you,” he said, at the same time that he realised that it truly was. A selfless thing for someone who seemed to have been raised very spoiled, to do. But maybe he was judging too harshly – the Count seemed to genuinely love his son, and vice versa. They were, it seemed, all they had left of family. Aside from he and Magda, and a few servants that growled at him, low like hounds, there seemed to be not another soul in the castle.

Not any awake soul, either way.

*

Alfred dream of being cradled close, and wondered who it was beside him. All he knew was that their hair was soft and that they fit, somehow.

When he woke, he couldn’t remember any of it. But he had slept better that night than he had in a long while.

*

Magda’s hair seemed even fierier in the candlelight, spreading the flames atop her head, like a dancing light.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Alfred said to her, sitting down at the other side of the window-still – one plus of having such huge windows were big window-stills, easily large enough to fit two people. Alfred was secretly sure that the Count had added the huge windows in his castle just for this – it certainly wasn’t for keeping the sun out.

“Do what?”

He gestured vaguely, towards himself and her, and the room at large. “This,” he said. “I don’t know how to just… continue. Like this.”

He had woken with a sudden restlessness deep in his bones, and he had surprised himself by seeking out Herbert first. He had stopped by his bedroom door however, even though he could clearly hear him rustle about in there. He didn’t really know why – a part of him was sure that Herbert would listen, like he always listened, attentive and teasing, but caring in that odd way of his. But the other part had been scared of spilling secrets to him, afraid of what Herbert might find amongst the rubble and dirt that was Alfred just in general.

Like it or not, he was strangely dependant on Herbert, and his good-will and his willingness to teach Alfred about… all of this. Magda was still new at it, and he dare not go to the Count, afraid to implore even more on his generosity.

But his fears were building up over his head, and he had no idea what to do. When he was little, his mind had been driven by one goal: get out of the gutter he was born into. Get an education, work hard, _become_ something. Something better than what everyone at the orphanage always told him that he was. And then at the university it had been studying late into the night, doing his best to keep up, to be the best, to _do better_. And then the Professor had swept in, the only one willing to snatch up a young student with need of money and experience. From there he had worked for the Professor, no matter how mad their small quest might have seemed.

And now…

Now he had nothing. Nothing he _needed_ to do, nothing hovering just at the edge of his mind, knocking and reminding him that there was always _more_ to do, more to see to. Study and learn, and grow and have a life, better than what were in your cards when you were first born.

Except now he did not have a life anymore, only eternity stretching out before him like a long and endless road. It seemed blissfully dark until he looked into the corners and found only lurking shadows, ready to strike.

“You know,” Magda said. “I’m really not the best one to talk to.”

“But you’re… I mean, you’re _new_ , as well.”

Her smile this time was gentle. “Not as new as you, little one.”

*

“Are there many other vampires?” Alfred asked.

“You see the slope there? If you follow it, you can see the _Cassiopeia_.”

“Herbert,” Alfred admonished. The other vampire was silent for a little while.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, his voice strangely hostile. Alfred turned his head to look at him. They were lying on the roof, watching the stars twinkle above. He wasn’t sure why Herbert had dragged him out here, but it was nice and quiet, and Herbert seemed to know more about the stars and constellations than anyone else Alfred had ever met.

He shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“You always ask so many questions,” Herbert said, a slight pout curving his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Alfred hastily said, afraid to offend. Herbert turned to look at him now too.

“You always apologise so much for yourself,” he said, eyes slightly wide, although perhaps it was just the starlight playing tricks with Alfred’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and then ducked his head slightly. “I mean…”

Herbert giggled, and it should not have been a sound that made butterflies stir in Alfred’s stomach. “Doing it again.”

“I’m sor… I know.”

“And _again._ ”

“Not quite that time!” he protested, smiling as Herbert threw his head back and laughed.

“You are delightful,” Herbert told him, and Alfred once again had the innate sense that he was blushing, even though he knew that he was no longer able to.

“Yes, well,” he mumbled, pushing himself up in a seated position so he could look out over the vast forest surrounding the castle. “That’s very nice of you to say.”

“It’s not _nice_ ,” Herbert purred, still lying down, his fingers brushing the edge of Alfred’s leg as he stretched slightly. Like a big cat, Alfred thought. “It’s just a fact, darling.”

Alfred snorted. Slowly, Herbert sat up beside him.

“You don’t believe me.”

“No,” he said, and then quickly added. “It’s not that! I’m not… I’m sorry, I’m not very good at receiving compliments.”

“Because you haven’t often been given them?”

“I suppose you’ve had people telling you how wonderful you are all your life,” Alfred said surly, hating himself for letting that thought get to him so much. He just wasn’t sure what was bothering him exactly, but that didn’t mean it was fair to let it out on Herbert.

A hand brushed the back of his head lightly, and when Alfred turned, cold lips were pressed against his own, gently and sweetly.

Alfred yelped and fell off the roof.

*

The next night Alfred awoke, still feeling bruised (though it was more his ego and pride than anything else, he would admit), to a piece of paper lying neatly on the desk in his room.

It was a drawing, intricate and accurate, and Alfred recognised himself instantly. It was odd: it looked like him, but there was something off. His mouth seemed softer, and his chin more curved, his eyes shining in a way he could not remember from any mirror.

The mirrors that no longer showed his reflection. He touched the edges of the paper gently, wondering who had left it. The rose that had also been left on his nightstand spoke for itself though. As did the sloping _H_ scribbled at the bottom of the paper, under the drawing.

He put it up against the wall so that he would be able to see it while he was working. The rose he left where it was. He was really not sure what to do with it, but he knew that he didn’t want to get rid of it. Even if it felt odd, being given a flower.

 _It’s just a flower,_ he reminded himself. It didn’t mean anything.

*

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. Not really.”

Alfred mumbled a swear he hadn’t uttered since he was six and didn’t know what it meant, before one of the older kids at the orphanage had told him. Judging by the wide smile spreading on Herbert’s face, he had heard it perfectly fine.

“Me and horses really don’t mix,” he said, eyeing the big beast with trepidation. _Give me a vampire, any day_ , he thought, and then feeling ridiculous for it, because, well….

Herbert suddenly exclaimed beside him, giving Alfred a fright: the horse was not startled at all, however, merely giving Alfred a bored look like it was disgraced to be seen in such unfit company as he presented.

“I have an idea!” Herbert gasped, looking all together too delighted with himself. Alfred did not feel like it was going to end well. “I’ll ride with you, and make sure you don’t fall off.”

“Oh,” Alfred somehow managed to get out, his voice high and thin. “That’s not really… it’s not necessary, you know, I would much rather just, we can just…”

“Oh don’t be silly,” Herbert insisted, already swinging himself into the saddle. “Your bones heal quick but having them broken is still unpleasant. I’ve been thrown off enough times to know.”

That distracted Alfred briefly. “ _You_ have been thrown off?”

Herbert sniffed and held his nose high, looking for all the world like some high-born sitting there on the horse like that. And then Alfred realised that that was exactly what he was.

“Father says I’m too impatient with the horses,” he sighed. “But, I have to say, _they_ are awfully impatient with me as well.”

And with that he reached down and swept Alfred up, seating him in front of Herbert on the horse.

Oh god, he was _going to fall off_.

“Relax,” Herbert gently said, reaching forward to take the reins, effectively pressing his chest incredibly close to Alfred’s chest and _um…_

His lips slid over Alfred’s ear as he spoke, and Alfred couldn’t help but shiver. He could practically _hear_ Herbert’s pleased grin.

He felt lightheaded. But Herbert was right: he didn’t let him fall of, not once. By the end of it, Alfred even let himself be helped down from the horse, Herbert apparently not at all minding all the lifting he had to do.

Alfred realised that in spite of the chill of the night, he felt quite warm.

*

He’s screaming in the dead of night, but his victim’s screams seems louder, and he realises that he is only screaming inside his own head, screaming for himself to stop.

He is yanked backwards then, a powerful and unresisting grip, and in a flurry of movement Alfred feels like he can breathe again, even though he does not need it to go on.

He still needs it – he does, he does. He’s realising that now.

The person lying on the ground is still and pale, blood seeping into the ground, and he’s shaking with fear and fury, ready to lash out at whoever interrupted his feast, and then he blinks and the woman has long pale hair and a small, slightly upturned nose that probably makes her smile look even more angelic, and she’s human and bleeding, and Alfred did that.

“Sssshhh,” it’s a familiar voice, whispering into his ear when he starts shaking. “It’s alright, dearest, it’s alright.”

He lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between a snarl and a sob, and he thinks he’s crying, it feels like he’s crying, but he hasn’t done that for so long that the sensation feels foreign, invasive, like fangs biting into his neck.

Alfred doesn’t remember much of what happens afterwards, but he comes back to himself at the castle, sitting on the floor. He’s being cradled, leaning back against a strong chest, one strangely warm hand smoothing over his forearm in a soothing gesture. He’s being rocked gently, and it’s strange, because he has never tried that before, someone holding him just to comfort.

He shifted slightly, and immediately regretted it, because it alerts the person holding him that he’s back to the waking world again. He pulls back, craning his neck to see who it is.

It’s no surprise that it’s Herbert, because there are few people Alfred could think of that would willingly hold him like this. He’s smiling at him, but it doesn’t really look happy.

Alfred feels cold. He feels cold, and there’s blood on his shirt and on his skin, and it’s not his own, like last time. He starts shaking again as the memories rush up to him, realising what he’d done.

“Darling,” Herbert said, his voice full of grief, and Alfred thinks _no,_ and buries his face in Herbert’s neck, because right now it seems like the only available hiding spot from the rest of the world. He is strangely warm, and Alfred can almost convince himself that there’s a pulse pumping life there.

“Alfred,” Herbert’s voice is breaking through to him now, and Alfred realised he had been calling for him for a while. “Alfred, she lived. You didn’t kill her.”

The relief he feels is instant and so encompassing that his vision turns white – it’s all he could think about even as he clutched at Herbert’s shirt like he has to hold on or he’ll be ripped away.

“T-thank you,” he finally gets out, because he knows what had happened, knows that if Herbert hadn’t stopped him, the girl _would_ have died. “I just…”

Herbert hushed him gently again, his hands running up and down his back now. “It’s alright, love. It’s alright.”

It most certainly wasn’t and Alfred wanted to tell him that, wanted to yell and scream, because he had almost killed someone, and that was as far from alright as anything he could imagine.

But he cannot say a word, so he just stays trembling, until even that stops, Herbert’s voice a soothing back-hum to the chaos in his mind.

Alfred is not sure how long it takes, but finally he feels the need to fill the void of silence between them.

“I could have killed her,” he said.

“But you did not,” Herbert’s voice is gently admonishing. “Put it out of your mind, dear heart _.”_

“It is going to happen again,” Alfred cannot stop this downwards slope his mind is going on. Herbert leans forward slightly, his lips ghosting over Alfred’s hair. “Why did you stop me?”

“Would you rather that I had not?”

“No,” Alfred immediately protested. “I just… I don’t… it’s going to happen again,” the realisation is as painful as the transformation had been. “Why did you stop me?” he asks again, insistently, because shouldn’t Herbert delighting in the way Alfred is turning more and more… into this? The way he’s adapting?

“Oh, Alfred,” the vampire sighed. “You forget that I know you.”

 _Yes,_ Alfred thought. _I suppose you do._

He draws in a shuddering breath and Herbert’s arms tighten slightly around him, as if he thinks Alfred is going to pull away. He isn’t – this is strangely nice, and he is afraid that he won’t be able to move at all on his own, not yet. Not so soon, after…

“I don’t want to be like this,” he said. “I hate it.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly feels the need to apologise, and perhaps it was the hurt in Herbert’s voice. _I didn’t mean to_ , he wants to say. _Please don’t be sad because of me._

He wondered when that had started to matter to him.

“You might have been never told this, Alfred,” Herbert’s voice was a low hum from his chest, and it was more relaxing than anything else right now. “But you are allowed to be angry about your situation. And you are not required to constantly apologise for yourself.”

“You’re right,” Alfred said. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

Herbert chuckled. “It’s a good thing I’m here then,” he said, sounding so pleased with himself that Alfred had to laugh as well.

“I am very happy for it too,” he said, slowly pulling away and missing the look on Herbert’s face at his words. “Thank you.”

He stood up, feeling only slightly unsteady. Herbert stayed seated on the floor, looking up at him with a light in his eyes that Alfred did not think he had seen before.

“Alfred…”

“Herbert, I’m…”

“Ah,”

Alfred stuttered and stopped. “Y-you first.”

The vampire was still smiling up at him, looking amused now. “I was only going to say… it can be difficult. But it does not have to be. Not all the time.”

“Oh, um,” he muttered. “Well. Um. Thank you. Thanks. Thank… yes, I suppose.”

“And?”

“And?”

“What were you going to say, _Mon Cheri_?” Herbert asked, clearly trying not to laugh at him now.

“Oh! Right. I was going to say something. It was… I was only… Thank you.” Oh, confound it all. “I should… go.”

“Alright,” Herbert said, and Alfred practically ran from the room.

Washing the blood off of himself, he felt cold again.

*

“Alfred, it’s alright really, not all of us fly around all the time. Just like every skill it is easier for some than for others, and it’s not even a really necessary one. I myself don’t like doing it too much. It messes up my hair.”

“I bet you never fell down like that though.”

“… No, I didn’t, my darling.”

“Herbert, please _stop laughing!”_

*

It was not until Alfred stumbled upon a calendar Magda had made in her boredom, that he realised he had been at the castle for almost a year. The thought was unnerving, even if time should now have a very different meaning to him: a year seemed like such a long time, but even in the span of a human life, it wasn’t really.

Perhaps it was just the unnerving thought that another ball was taking place, and Alfred could not help but cast his mind back to the last ball, and everything that had happened during, and after.

Herbert however, seemed to have cast that catastrophe completely out of his mind. “We are going to have to find you an outfit,” he said to him, appearing in his room one evening. Alfred had only just gotten his proper clothes on after waking up, and he couldn’t help but think of what would have happened had Herbert just barged in earlier. He suddenly felt grateful that he had managed this long without any such indiscretion – it would simply be too embarrassing.

“I have outfits,” Alfred responded. Herbert sighed like he had the burden of the entire world resting on his shoulders.

“Something for the _ball_ , dear heart,” he said, his voice laced with patience, as if explaining to a child. Alfred huffed and folded his arms over his chest.

“I hardly see that I…”

“Oh, but you do.”

“I really don’t…”

“You _do.”_

When the ball finally did come around, Alfred was glad of Herbert’s insistence however: while he felt awkward in his new finery, he had to admit, he would have felt extremely underdressed in anything he himself had picked out. And both Herbert and Magda cooed at how the blue silk of his coat apparently brought out his eyes: it was odd – he was not used to compliments such as these, and while at first it had unnerved him greatly, the small twinge of discomfort was now greatly outweighed by the pleasure of having someone actually take care to be nice to him. Magda had quickly proven herself a good, if slightly devious, friend, and Herbert was…

Well, Herbert was Herbert.

His fancy clothes did not mean that Alfred wasn’t going to attempt to spend most of the ball hiding in a corner, however.

“What on earth are you doing _, Liebling_?” Herbert had somehow managed to sneak up on him, and Alfred was very proud of himself for not jumping up and screaming in fright.

“N-nothing,” he stammered. “I was just…”

“Hiding.”

He opened his mouth to deny, but then shut it again. “Yes,” he finally said.

“Oh, no,” Herbert pouted at him. “No, you can’t, Alfred, this is a party, you are supposed to be having fun.”

“I never have fun at parties,” he confessed. “I’m not any good at them.”

“But it has nothing to do with being _good_ at them,” protested Herbert. “You simply enjoy yourself and ignore everyone who tries to infringe on that.”

Alfred gaped at him. “That’s… that’s not really… common social decorum, I don’t think.”

Herbert smiled like the devil. “Well, it is my father throwing the ball. I believe I can do what I want.”

“You believe that at any time and any moment,” he retorted, laughing. Herbert’s eyes lit up.

“Very true, my friend.” He stepped a little closer. “Which is also why I am going to do exactly what I want most right now, and ask you to dance.”

Suddenly Alfred was back to feeling shy again. “I don’t…” oh, but he had known this was coming, how could he not? It wasn’t like Herbert had tried to hide his feelings, it was just that Alfred had sort of forgotten because he had not been as expressive as when they first had met. That had been extreme, and thinking of it now, Herbert had been nothing but gentle since then, and sweet and caring.

 _We have become friends,_ he realised.

“Magda’s partner look terrified,” he pointed out then, looking at the small youth that was probably a few centuries older than Magda, being swung around by her on the dance floor. Her fangs were showing as she grinned. “Maybe you should go rescue him. I’ll…” he searched for words, because he did not wish to let Herbert down. “Later?”

Herbert nodded at him slightly, still smiling. “Of course. I did promise Magda a dance. Or, five actually, she was very particular. I bid my leave until… _later,_ my dear.”

“R-right,” Alfred squeaked, although Herbert had already moved onto the dance floor, liberating Magda’s partner, and soon they were dancing so wildly that they were taking up nearly half the floor. Alfred wasn’t sure if he should point out to them that they were not in tune with the music at all, but then he figured he would rather tell the musicians to step it up, and follow them instead: it seemed only right.

He was interrupted however, by a tall shadow passing over him.

“I have not seen you before,” a low voice told him, and Alfred looked up, up, up, staring into cold green eyes and a pale and freckled face.

“Um.”

He was handsome, but his smile was cold. “But where are my manners, I have not introduced myself. My name is Benjamin.” He said, bowing low and flustering Alfred even more.

“Eh. Hello. Hi,” he stopped and gathered himself. “I’m Alfred. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” Benjamin said, pearly white teeth (and fangs!) almost blinding him. Alfred’s eyes cast around for an available exit. “I was merely wondering what such an angel was doing all the way over here, with no-one asking him to dance.”

“Actually,” Alfred started, but was interrupted.

“And I thought I had better do something about it,” Benjamin’s smile was still all too white. His hand snaked out and grasped Alfred’s wrist. “So, shall we?”

“I don’t…” but he was already being pulled along, out unto the dance floor that he decidedly did not want to go out on, being swung around by some stranger with a bright smile.

This was strangely familiar, and yet not at all. Benjamin was a good dancer and more than made up for Alfred’s hesitation, but he still felt wrong, pressed too close, his head whirring in confusion.

“So, Alfred,” he said, his grip on Alfred’s hand tightening slightly. “Where exactly are you from?”

 _Somewhere far away,_ he thought. But he did not want to say.

“I live here, actually,” he replied instead. Benjamin’s smile became even wider.

“Ah, with the Count! How excellent! I hear they have made the acquaintance of a woman too?”

 _Her name is Magda,_ Alfred sourly thought. “She…”

“Arrived at around the same time as you?”

“Yes.” How on earth did he know that? Alfred was starting to feel even more nervous, and he was already panicking, just slightly. This ball really was shaping up to be as odd and confusing as the last one. Was he going to end up bleeding in the snow this time too?

He really, really hoped not.

“And there was some other frilly, as well,” Benjamin said, missing Alfred’s scowl. “What was…”

“Sarah Chagal.”

“Chagal, that was it! Oh, I don’t suppose…”

“She’s not here.” Two could play at this interruption-game.

“A shame. I believe you two were close?”

 _What does that have to do with anything, and_ how does he know?

Alfred wasn’t sure if he was still panicking, or just getting angry. He gritted his teeth.

“And you?” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Paris,” Benjamin said, slowing his pace a little to follow the music. Alfred almost stumbled, but righted himself just in time, grateful he wouldn’t have to lean on the other vampire for support. “At least for the time being. There are… benefits, to keeping to the country.”

Alfred decided then and there that he did not like how Benjamin was looking at him: not one bit. He opened his mouth to say something, desperately wanting to change the subject, when someone, in a flurry of red hair and dark skirts crashed into him.

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry,” Herbert said while Magda giggled and apologised as well. Alfred had never been this happy to see them before. “We didn’t see you there.”

Benjamin’s smile was tight now. “No worries.”

“We got a bit preoccupied,” Magda confessed, swiping at her curls with one hand. On anyone else, Alfred thought her hair would have looked a mess, but on Magda it somehow just fit. Herbert and her were sporting the same fang-y grins, but there was an unpleasant twist to Herbert’s lips and Magda’s eyes seemed somehow cold.

“No worries,” Benjamin repeated, and Alfred could feel himself being pulled away again. He cast his eyes towards Herbert, desperately trying to convey how much he would rather _stay._

“But it is no matter,” Herbert said, as if reading his mind though it seemed like he had not looked at Alfred once. “I believe Alfred owed me a dance?”

“I did,” he agreed, possibly faster than was proper, and Herbert’s eyes flickered to him only briefly before settling on Benjamin again.

“I’m sure there will be plenty of time later…” Benjamin started, but Magda had somehow already wedged herself between him and Alfred, her grip on the other vampire looking hard enough to bruise.

“I just love this song!” she declared in a loud voice, dragging a very confused-looking Benjamin after her. Alfred had to keep down a snicker, but then he was being folded into strong arms again, and Herbert turned him around on the floor.

“I thought you didn’t like to dance, darling,” he remarked, his eyes looking out into the room and not focusing on Alfred at all. He frowned. Was that a pout he could detect on the other vampire’s face?

“He didn’t really give me much choice,” he dryly said, wincing when Herbert’s grip suddenly tightened around him, his nails digging into his waist.

“Was he bothering you?” oh, but Herbert sounded _cold,_ and Alfred could not remember a single time when it had been to this extent.

“It’s fine,” he quickly muttered, not wanting to cause trouble. “He was just… persistent.”

Finally Herbert looked down at him, giving him a curious glance. “If someone is bothering you, you come to me,” he said then, and it wasn’t a request as much as a demand. “Or to Magda, or to Father. You live here now, and I think you need to realise that it gains you a certain level of respect in our world.”

“Oh.” Alfred winced again, in embarrassment this time. He was pretty sure maybe that was exactly why Benjamin had been so intent on dancing with him.

Herbert shook his head. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

“No, you’re right, I’m a huge pushover,” Alfred admitted with a forlorn sigh, that quickly turned into a smile when Herbert laughed loudly in surprise.

“You’re getting better,” he said with that teasing tone of his, and Alfred could feel warmth spreading in his chest as the lines of worry on Herbert’s face melted away again.

“I’m learning from the best,” he said. “And… and thank you. For the rescue.”

“I wasn’t sure that you needed one, but Magda insisted.”

“I’ll have to thank her instead, then.”

Herbert frowned and pinched him lightly, causing Alfred to yelp and make several dancing vampires around them turn their heads in confusion. Herbert smiled at them widely, while Alfred hid his face in embarrassment.

“I really do appreciate it,” he insisted. “And I hope you don’t think… I-I mean, as you can see, I’m not the best dancer, so I don’t really usually do that, and I…”

“You dance just fine, dear heart,” Herbert smoothly said, though Alfred felt like countering with the fact that Herbert was doing all the work and Alfred was just holding on for dear life and following.

“Yes, but. I… it must have seemed rude, me refusing you when you asked and then dancing with him right after, and I… I really don’t hope that you think… I hope that you realise that, um….”

Herbert’s gaze was so intense that Alfred had to look away. “That I realise what, _Liebling_?”

“That… that I’d much rather be dancing with you than anyone else here.”

It took the very last of his courage to simply get that sentence out, but the look on Herbert’s face afterwards was worth it. It was, in fact, so beautiful, that Alfred couldn’t stop himself from halting their dance and leaning forwards, brushing their lips together gently.

Herbert’s mouth was softer than anything Alfred could remember, and he immediately pressed himself closer, feeling his knees go weak when Herbert suddenly whimpered – he felt immaculately powerful with the knowledge that _he_ was responsible for something like that.

And then he realised that he was kissing Herbert right in the middle of a ball-room filled with people, including Herbert’s _father_ , and abruptly pulled away again.

“Um,” he got out, because it was currently the only semi-intelligent sound available to him. And then he turned around and practically sprinted out of the room.

How could he do that? How could he just kiss Herbert? What was he thinking?

 _Why the hell did you just run off?_ a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Sarah asked, and Alfred stopped dead in the empty hallway.

 _Oh_ , he thought, reaching up a hand to touch his lips slightly. They felt warm. He wasn’t sure exactly how, but they did. _Oh._

_Oh, Alfred, you fool._

What was he even thinking? Even if Herbert did still fancy him, like he had when they had first met – and there was plenty evidence to support that – there was simply no way that this would work. First and foremost, Alfred had spent the better part of a year still believing he was in love with a very absent Sarah, although now that he cast his mind back, he realised he had been thinking about her less and less, until her looming shadow had somehow lost its presence completely. But even with that, Alfred knew himself well enough to know that he didn’t just _kiss_ people, even if their lashes were long and dark and their muscles well-defined and their eyes like deep pools hiding secret mysteries, and _Christ almighty he was in love with Herbert._

Which was precisely the problem.

Herbert had seen him, still insecure and human – or, more insecure and human than he was now, at least – and found him attractive. Fair enough: Alfred did not think himself much to look at, but to each their own. And he had obviously made an effort to be amiable and friendly when Alfred had chosen to stay, because life like this, with only his father for company most of the year around, must get so terribly lonely sometimes. Now suddenly he had both Magda and Alfred for a distraction, and there really was no reason that he should not try to be amicable with both of them. They had fun, the three of them – Alfred had come to think of them as his dearest friends.

But that was all it was – all, surely, that Herbert would think of Alfred. Someone he could tease and dance with, even kiss, perhaps, because vampires were, as Alfred had discovered, so very free with that sort of thing, but not any more than that. A year of Alfred’s acquaintance, and surely there would be absolutely no reason why Herbert’s feelings should run as deep as Alfred had just found that his did.

Oh, it was just so like him, to fall in love with someone all together too good for him, someone that would never – and could never – love him back.

*

People were still milling about the next night, cleaning up after the ball and filling the corridors with enough distractions that Alfred felt sure he could sit in his room and hide without trouble.

Magda seemed intent on ruining that.

“I hate you both _so much_ ,” she declared as she slammed his door open, which was a surprise because Alfred was very sure that he had locked it and Magda most certainly did not have a key.

“Did you break that?” he asked, eyeing the door with trepidation as it swung closed again, looking a little offbeat.

“Oh nevermind the door,” Magda huffed, sitting down on the bed with a scowl. Alfred had still not gotten around to asking why there was a bed when he slept in the coffin in the corner, but he also had a sense that the answer would make him embarrassed. “You have got to stop sulking!”

Alfred frowned and turned back to the book open on his desk. “If you are bored, you can go bother Herbert instead,” he said.

“He’s _sulking too_!” she moaned. “You _both_ have to stop it.”

Alfred frowned. “Why is Herbert sulking now? Did something happen?”

He turned around only to see an incredulous look on Magda’s face.

“What?”

“Are you dim?” she asked, voice cold. “Do you have selective hearing? Selective eyesight? Is it a trait of university boys to completely ignore everything except for library books?”

“What are you talking about?” Alfred asked, feeling stung at her words.

“Oh devil below, you really don’t know,” she muttered, staring at him in shock. “You genuinely have no idea, do you?”

“Of _what?”_

“Oh, you poor child,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling as if it somehow had all the answers. “And he’s dim as well.”

“God?” Alfred searched the ceiling too, wondering what in the world she was looking at.

“Do I have to lock you two in a closet together?”

“Please don’t lock me anywhere!”

Magda got up from her seat and marched – there was no other word for it – over to stand beside him. Alfred sunk down in his chair, feeling very small all of a sudden.

“Alfred, why did you kiss Herbert last night?” she asked, her voice surprisingly gentle – for Magda – even though her posture was on the verge of threatening a good maiming and potential death.

“You saw?” he asked, feeling mortified.

“Everyone saw.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah, I think I saw the Count clapping at you.”

“ _Oh god.”_

“Alfred,” Magda interrupted his rapidly spiralling panic. “Why did you kiss Herbert?”

He hung his head. “I don’t know.”

“You really don’t?”

A whole year of his soul being damned, and he still found that he could not lie.

“I guess, because I wanted to,” he mumbled.

“Is it a performance you would maybe like to repeat?”

“Not in front of everyone!”

Magda actually laughed at that, and he felt some of the tension leave him too.

“No, no of course not,” she shook her head and smiled at him. “If you want to kiss Herbert, what’s stopping you?”

 _Have you met me?_ He thought, and hoped it wasn’t visible on his face – from Magda’s look, it probably was.

“Oh, Alfred…”

The door behind them swung gently open again, a low knock filling the air.

“Um, hello?” Sarah tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, snow crystals falling off the shoulders of her light jacket. “Alfred! Magda! Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

*

Alfred did not see Herbert for three whole nights, and it made him more miserable than anything before ever had.

“Oh, cheer up,” Sarah said, stacking the books he had handed her neatly on the shelf. “I thought it wasn’t physically possible for you to look so unhappy in a library.”

 _How would you know,_ Alfred thought, but swallowed his petty, hurt feelings down. “I’m just worried about Herbert,” he said. “His ah… moods doesn’t usually last this long.”

“So he’s acting more like a child than usual,” Sarah dismissed, but then stopped. “That was mean, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” He felt no problem calling her out on it, feeling defensive on behalf of Herbert.

“I suppose I haven’t been very mature either, just running off like that,” she mumbled. “I didn’t even say goodbye.”

“You didn’t.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, a tentative smile on her face. Alfred sighed quietly.

“But I understand why you did it.”

“You do?”

“Yes. If I had thought I… I mean, if I wasn’t so _me_ , then I would have probably run off too.”

She looked puzzled. “What do you mean, so ‘you’.”

“Well,” Alfred gave her an odd look right back, gesturing towards himself. “So _me_.”

“You would have done great,” she insisted. “You still will.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. Alfred,” she stepped towards him, placing a light hand on his shoulder. “You’re capable of much more than you give yourself credit for.”

“Oh,” he smiled at her. “Thank you, Sarah.”

“You’re welcome,” she leaned up – he had forgotten just have tiny she was – and placed a light kiss on his cheek. Suddenly, Alfred was quite happy that she was back – as always, Sarah seemed to bring a light with her wherever she went, and it sent his spirits up considerably, a much needed boost after the disaster at the ball.

The door of the library swung around with a loud bang, and Alfred only just managed to see the tail of a long silk robe, before Herbert had already disappeared around the corner.

“Excuse me,” Alfred said, moving quickly after him and ignoring the encouraging shout Sarah made in his wake.

He caught up with Herbert in the corridor, practically running in order to keep up with the vampire’s long strides.

“Herbert! Please wait! Oh,” he stopped abruptly when Herbert did, only just managing not to bump into him. “Well, thank you.”

“What do you want?” Herbert asked, his voice so cold that Alfred reeled for a moment.

“Um,”

“Please speak up, I am in quite the hurry,” Herbert’s voice was perfectly pleasant and perfectly indifferent now, and Alfred felt something inside of him snap.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to talk to you!” he hissed, his jaw clenched tight. “And for having been worried when you seemed to just disappear!”

“It’s a big castle, darling,” Herbert sounded mocking now, and Alfred felt humiliated and hurt, but most of all angry. “Plenty of space.”

“To hide in?”

That made Herbert’s eyes snap to him. “Unlike others, _I_ do not hide.”

 _He really is acting like a child_ , Alfred thought, sparing a moment to acknowledge that he probably wasn’t making the situation any better himself.

Still. It seemed like a dam had broken, and now he needed to get all of this out.

“You were hiding,” he said.

“Are we done?” Herbert sounded bored again, and started storming up to his room without waiting for a response.

Alfred stormed right after him.

“Stop ignoring me!” he insisted, swinging the door shut behind him – it was oddly gratifying. Alfred had never slammed a door before in his life. He could see why Herbert was so fond of doing it.

“I’m not ignoring you,” Herbert said, looking everywhere but at him. Alfred felt some of the fight leave him.

“But you are,” he said. “You’re ignoring me and avoiding me and… and…”

“Well,” there was a vindictive look in Herbert’s eyes. “You were the one who kissed me and then ran off, so now you get to have a taste of your own medicine, I suppose.”

“You are such a child!” Alfred yelled. Herbert looked deeply insulted.

“I’m over six hundred years old!”

“You can’t just… you’re _over_ _six hundred years old?!”_

Herbert’s lips twitched, and Alfred realised he was trying not to smile.

“Are you surprised? Vampires live a long time, dear.”

“Yes, but,” Alfred spluttered, blinking. “You just… look younger.”

Herbert burst out laughing. Alfred smiled too, realising how silly he must have sounded. 

“But really, over six hundred?”

“Yes,” Herbert sobered up a little bit, though his eyes were still soft. It made Alfred’s chest clench. He didn’t realise how much he had missed seeing Herbert smile. “I am.”

“Wow. That’s… wow.”

“I’m glad you’re so impressed with my continuous existence,” said Herbert, and Alfred laughed again.

“As a matter of fact, you are very impressive,” he said. “When you’re not sulking.”

He immediately regretted his words when the smile fell right off Herbert’s face again.

“Yes, well,” he mumbled. “We all have our days, _Mon Cheri_.”

“We all have our nights,” Alfred gently corrected him. “Like at the ball. That was very wrong of me to… I know that. I’m very sorry.”

Herbert’s eyes were boring holes into his very soul, but Alfred could not look away. “Sorry that you kissed me, or sorry that you stopped?”

It was, Alfred thought, exactly the question he had both hoped that Herbert would ask, and hoped that he would avoid. He knew he had to answer: it would not be fair, otherwise. There would be no saving what little between them there was if he didn’t. But he also knew that if he confessed to his feelings – and he could not answer this question without doing so, could not lie, not even by omission, even if it might be better in this situation – he would have to leave. He couldn’t stay. Herbert certainly wouldn’t want him to stay. It would be too awkward. He would lose him either way.

“I’m sorry I stopped,” he finally said. “I’m so very sorry I stopped, because…” oh, he wished Herbert would stop staring at him so intensely, like he was hanging onto every single word out of Alfred’s mouth as if they were some kind of nectar of the gods. “B-because… I don’t know how to say this. I-I don’t…” He couldn’t say it, terrible visions of Herbert’s discomfort in the wake of the truth dancing before him. “I-I’m sorry!”

“Alfred,” Herbert’s voice was unfailingly gentle as he stepped closer to him. “If you want me to kiss you again, you only have to ask.”

“No!” he exclaimed, startling Herbert. “I don’t… I mean, I _do_ , but it’s not… I don’t…”

“Are you going to be sick?”

“No! Wait, can vampires be sick?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not going to be sick!”

“Please don’t, the rug is new.”

Alfred let out a shaky laugh. “See,” he said. “There you go again. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He could not decipher the look Herbert got on his face at those words. He would call it awe, except his eyes looked pained.

“I want to make something clear, Alfred,” he said then. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a very long time. And that is why you cannot just kiss me, and then run away.”

Alfred could feel his brain shut down. “You…”

“I’m not saying that I don’t want you to kiss me, darling,” he added. “But I hope you realise that my feelings might make the situation more delicate. I hope you can, if nothing else, try to be considerate and if it bothers you…”

“If it _bothers me!”_

“Alfred,” Herbert huffed, impatience clear on his face. “ _I love you._ Do you understand?”

“Why did you not tell me?” was the only sentence he seemed able to get out. _He loves me. He_ loves _me._

“You were settling in,” Herbert answered, looking uncomfortable. “You were adjusting and you… you were in a lot of pain. And I _did_ tell you, a year ago, before you were turned.”

“That doesn’t count! I thought you were evil back then!” Alfred huffed. “I didn’t think you _meant it_. I thought you just liked me for, oh, what was that ridiculous thing you said, my ‘lashes spun of gold’?”

Herbert presented him with a slow smile. “Their beauty has not diminished.”

“Oh, you are too much,” said Alfred, so unfailingly glad that he could not blush anymore. “You _love_ me?”

“Yes,” Herbert said, and looked unsure of himself again, and Alfred hated that he was looking like that, and hated even more that he was the reason for it.

“I love you too,” he said, feeling foolish, for saying it now and not much earlier. Judging by the look on Herbert’s face he had not expected to hear those words sooner nor later.

And then Alfred was being kissed again, insistently and hungrily, swept off his feet literally and dumped on the bed, only deprived for a few seconds before Herbert’s weight pressed down on him, his mouth fitting over his again. He let out an involuntary sound of pleasure when Herbert’s lips slid over his jaw and trailed kisses down his neck.

“I think I found out what the bed is for,” he grinned, and Herbert stopped abruptly, his body shaking with laughter. Alfred looked down, catching Herbert’s eyes, his head resting right above Alfred’s unbeating heart.

“I adore you,” he said, and impossibilities be damned, Alfred was sure that he was blushing. “Do you know that?”

“I-I’m getting the sense of it,” he mumbled, watching with rapt attention as Herbert pushed himself up on his hands, leaning forwards to brush his lips over Alfred’s forehead.

“I need you to know that.” he said as he pulled away again, before leaning down for another kiss. Alfred was only happy to oblige. “I find you exquisite.”

“I’m embarrassed.”

Herbert chuckled. “You’re _cute_.”

“That’s just insulting,” he reached up hesitantly, twisting his fingers in Herbert’s hair. The purring noise he got in return gave him the feeling it had been a good call. “I find you very likeable as well.”

He had no idea what he was saying, but if it could keep making Herbert laugh like that, he was going to continue. Herbert grasped a hold of him again, rolling over on the bed so that Alfred was on top of him instead, pinned to Herbert’s chest by his arms folding over his back.

“You are very silly, darling,” Herbert said, and then laughed again. Alfred grumbled but didn’t protest, only closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the other vampire’s.

“You’re staying now, right?” Herbert asked, as if he had had a window directly into Alfred’s heart, able to see all the fears and anxieties hiding there.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he said, holding him tight.  

 

 

                     

 


	2. bridges and towers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Kyra talked me into writing a sequel for this. And then it happened. Dammit. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Alfred was reading. Now, reading was a pretty good pastime, Herbert would admit, and Alfred looked cute when he did it too, the low flickering candles casting shadows over his face. His brow was scrunched slightly in concentration, his eyes darting quickly from line to line. In fact, he looked positively _adorable_ , and that was precisely the problem.

He was paying all too much attention to the book, and not nearly enough attention to Herbert, if Herbert had to say. Not that Herbert expected Alfred to always have his attention on him, or anything, but it had already been a _whole hour._

He was sprawled across his chair to be able to look at Alfred, and now he was leaning down and nudging his foot against the armrest of the chair the boy was occupying. 

“Good book?” he asked, sounding completely casual. Alfred didn’t respond. Herbert frowned and nudged a little harder, causing Alfred to startle in surprise. 

“Herbert!”

“Dearest,” he smiled brightly at Alfred. Perhaps a bit too brightly, because he started squinting at him. 

“I’m reading,” he said, sounding tired like Herbert had done something particularly trying. 

“I know, I can see that. Is it a good book?”

“Oh,” now Alfred looked sheepish, and a little embarrassed too. It was an even better look on him, Herbert thought. “Yes, um. It is.” And then he went back to burying his face in the book again. Almost literally. Herbert sighed and scooted down even more in his chair, not once taking his eye off Alfred. It was odd to think that, at this time last night, they hadn’t been speaking to each other. Or rather, Herbert hadn’t been speaking to Alfred, still too hurt about what had happened at the ball to want to see him. It had been a bit childish, he supposed, but he had argued with himself that Alfred most likely also needed some space to think. 

Of course, most of it had had to do with Sarah. Herbert really, really hadn’t meant to ignore Alfred longer than just, maybe the first night, but then _she_ had come back, and well…

Herbert would tell anyone that cared to listen that he simply wanted two old friends who had been through a lot together to catch up after a whole year of not hearing from each other. In truth, he had begun withdrawing because he was certain that soon, Sarah would leave again, and Alfred would follow without a moment’s hesitation. He’d leave him. That’s just how it was. 

The last year had been a difficult and strange one, but it had been worth it for the chance to watch the moonlight splay colours in Alfred’s hair, the chance to hear him talk and ask, curious by nature and willing to learn like any proper student. At first, Herbert had been almost sick with worry: they’d given chase as soon as their esteemed guests had fled the ball, but the Professor had at least been capable of using his brain a little, and he’d managed to lead them in circles for a short while. It had only been Alfred and the Professor there, Sarah but a scarlet flash in the distance, and the Professor fleeing soon after. Alfred had been weak and disoriented, and shivering in the cold that shouldn’t even affect him in the first place. Father had frowned at Herbert when he had slashed his own wrist open and allowed Alfred to drink deep, but he had said nothing about it. He’d gathered Alfred up and brought him home with them, and not really done his best to contain the giddy feeling that now Alfred was _here_ , and Sarah wasn’t, so he wouldn’t be so distracted anymore. 

He was slightly ashamed to admit now, that he hadn’t thought about what Alfred’s reaction to being turned would be, not until he’d woken up and refused to drink any more, and hid himself in the crypt like that musty old place was better to be than anywhere Herbert was. 

It had been just like him, falling for someone who would despise the most fundamental things about him. _You’ve known him for such a short while_ , Herbert had reminded himself. It didn’t matter.

But it _did_ matter, when Father suddenly started talking about young vampires meeting the sun, not happy and prepared like the ones that were old and content and didn’t need any more, but frightened and disgusted by what they had become, and suddenly no existing force of nature could stop Herbert from going down to see how Alfred was, to make sure that he was _alright._

He wasn’t. He wasn’t alright, and Herbert’s unbeating, dead heart had broken. 

For some reason, Alfred had stayed. And he’d gotten… he’d gotten better, and he had adjusted, and he had not shunned Herbert’s company at all, had seemed tolerant and even fond at times. It had been, to put it simply, quite amazing and even though Herbert had to restrain himself often, it had been worth it. Even after the first time when Alfred had gotten so surprised at Herbert’s kiss that he had actually fallen off the rooftop they had been on. Herbert didn’t think he was _that_ bad of a kisser, but Magda had assured him that it was Alfred being Alfred, and next time he should probably ask and wait for an answer, before just kissing someone. 

Kissing ‘someone’. Ridiculous. He didn’t want to kiss anyone but Alfred. Which presented a problem, because Alfred didn’t give any inclination that he wanted to be kissed, and Herbert didn’t want to keep asking and keep getting a no, and ruin the pleasant air that hung about their nights these days. Being with Alfred was… refreshing. Even Father seemed to like him, and Magda had cooed for a long time about his intelligence and politeness – actually, she’d done that to the point that Herbert had sunk down into a mood, and the new vampire had laughed and told him that she really wasn’t interested like that, and Herbert need not worry. 

Which was good, because Herbert had discovered that Magda was an absolute delight to be around, and he really didn’t want her to leave either. Thankfully, she gave no inclination that she wanted to, nor did she threaten to kill him (much) when he came to her, complaining about Alfred’s friendliness and lack of… well, other things beyond friendliness that Herbert was really hoping would come forth. 

They didn’t. Herbert had never been patient, to Father’s endless frustration throughout the centuries, but for Alfred he did his outmost. He could be his friend: he _wanted_ to be his friend, if only so that Alfred wouldn’t look at him and see a monster. If only so that Alfred would smile more. He would be content with that. 

And then Alfred had gone and turned it all on its head by _kissing_ him, and then telling him that he _loved_ him when Herbert’s personal little dam had burst after said kiss, and really, no one could blame Herbert for being giddy now, and for feeling slighted over the fact that Alfred was currently paying more attention to a _book_ than to him. It was outrageous. 

Herbert sighed again, and slid out of the chair, watching as Alfred’s shoulders tensed slightly, surprise and shock on his face when Herbert plucked the book out of his hands and, feeling devious, placed himself in Alfred’s lap, draped over this chair like he had the last one, except this time there was a huge bonus, and it was his flustered and stammering lover. 

Oh, Herbert had decided he could definitely call them lovers, even if they had only kissed this far. It had been heavy, intense kissing. There had been groping as well, though Herbert had been the main perpetuator of that. It counted. 

“H-Herbert, what are you d-doing?” Alfred was all tense, his hands hovering awkwardly now that there was a sudden vampire in their way, and Herbert had to hide his smile behind the book, flickering through the pages with long fingers. 

“ _The Sylph_?” he asked in surprise, recognising it now. Also completely ignoring Alfred’s cute, yet odd question, because wasn’t it obvious what he was doing?

“Y-yes,” Alfred mumbled, distracted enough to let his hands fall down, one of them brushing Herbert’s leg to his great delight. “I, um, y-your version here is a lot better than the last one I read, and it isn’t translated either, which is the only one I could find back at the university, so. I-Is it alright that I…”

“This is a first edition, you know,” Herbert said, feeling only slightly bad for interrupting – Alfred was about to ask a silly question anyway, of _course_ it was alright that he look in any book in the library. This was his home now, after all. “Georgiana sent it to Father, I remember. The Duchess is a lovely woman, I believe she’s traveling in Norway right now.”

“W-wow, that’s… did you just say _‘is_ a lovely woman’?”

Herbert turned his head to smile at Alfred. “I did.” He’d get it in a moment. 

“Didn’t she die in 1805?”

“1806. And yes, she did,” Herbert closed the book turning it around in his hands. “Father always invites her to the ball, but she so rarely comes. Mary still teases her so for her daughter’s affair with Lord Byron.”

“Mary?”

“Mary Shelley. Oh dear, you _talked_ to her at the ball, don’t you remember? The lovely brown-haired lady who complimented your cuffs?”

“That was _Mary Shelley?!”_

Herbert couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, _Mon Cheri_ , that was Mary Shelley. You can understand her fascination with vampires after that book she wrote, she was an obvious candidate when it was time for new recruits. Oh, dearest, you look positively stricken.”

“I just…” Alfred blinked, and then seemed to gather himself again. “I just guess I never thought so many… famous people would be vampires. I guess… aren’t you afraid of discovery? I mean, if we suddenly had Napoleon wandering around…”

“You didn’t see him either? What ball did you attend?”

“ _Oh my god_.”

“I’m teasing you, dear,” Herbert threw the book in the direction of the table (hoping he wasn’t going to miss, or he would have to apologise to dear Georgiana when she did come around again), and reached out to trail his fingers along Alfred’s jaw, leaning his head close. “But you’re right, that is a big risk. You’re so clever,” he gushed, feeling warm at the sight of Alfred scrunching his face in half confusion, half happiness at the compliment. It was too adorable for words. “I wonder what I did right to get such a clever one.”

“Oh, I-I’m n-not really…” Alfred stammered, but then stopped when Herbert leaned forward, his eyes slipping close as their lips brushed. Herbert kissed him like that once, twice, and then a third time just for good measure, before deepening the kiss, tilting Alfred’s head gently and brushing his knuckles over his cheek. It was wondrous, feeling the tension leave Alfred little by little as he let Herbert lead the kiss, one hand clenched tightly in his own shirt as if he was still hesitating to touch. Which again, was adorable and not something that Herbert was used to, from anyone else. Vampires were used to just taking. He shifted, pressing himself even closer and breaking away from the kiss to let his mouth run down the length of Alfred’s neck instead. He scraped blunt teeth over his collarbone, extremely pleased when Alfred shuddered under him, and moaned quietly. Alfred tasted wonderful, and Herbert’s fangs teased over the skin there, putting hardly any pressure on his skin…

He was being shoved on the floor before he even knew what was happening, Alfred standing up with a wild and frightened look in his eyes. 

“I have to go!” he said, voice too loud for the silence in the library and then he ran out of the door at top speed, leaving Herbert sitting on the floor in frustration, wondering what the hell had just happened. 

*

Herbert spent exactly fifteen minutes sulking on the floor before he started missing Alfred too much, and decided to go to his room to find him. 

Since the door was still broken after Magda’s last encounter with it, it wasn’t locked or even closed properly when Herbert got up there. It creaked open easily when Herbert knocked, but Alfred reacted to neither. He was standing by the desk, looking at something, his shoulders drawn up as if waiting for a blow. Herbert stepped in, feeling hesitant. 

“Are you alright?”

Alfred lifted his head but still didn’t turn to face him. “Yeah.”

Herbert took another step into the room. “Alfred, I need you to tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he hurriedly said, finally turning around. He was even paler than what was usual. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not,” he moved to step even closer, but Alfred winced and looked down at the ground, so Herbert stopped, feeling frustrated that he couldn’t make Alfred stop looking… looking scared of him. He remembered the last time he had realised that, the fright in the boy when he thought he had made a misstep, and it made bile rise in his throat. Surely Alfred knew that he would never let any harm befall him? 

Except, it seemed like he already had. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not very good at… at any of this,” Alfred mumbled. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Herbert sighed, trying to keep his frustration and impatience contained. “Alfred, sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong, I just need to know what _I_ did to make you so frightened.”

“I’m not frightened.”

“You clearly are,” he couldn’t keep a growl quite out of his voice, and hated himself when Alfred winced. 

“You can’t bite me!” he blurted out then. “I mean, you…” he was blinking rapidly, wringing his hands together. “Um, p-please don’t bite me. I can’t… not with your fangs.”

Herbert remembered Alfred telling him about his death: about how much it had hurt. In that moment, Herbert thought that if it hadn’t been Sarah, a girl that Father, Magda and Alfred were extremely fond of, he would have gone and wrung the vampire who had bit Alfred’s neck right this second. There were flashes of that pain on Alfred’s face now, like the memory was too close, and it was no wonder that he had found existence as a vampire such an ordeal when the very start of it had been a nightmare. 

“I am so sorry. I got carried away,” Herbert said then, and Alfred’s eyes snapped up to him in surprise. “I’m really sorry, Alfred.”

He gaped at him in shock. “I’m… why are you…”

“Sweetheart, if there is ever anything you don’t want me to do, then I’m not going to do it,” he took a cautious step forward, and then another when Alfred didn’t move away, finally standing close enough to touch, though he did not. “I promise. You just have to tell me.”

Alfred shut his mouth. “Oh… a-alright.” And then to Herbert’s great delight, Alfred stepped a little closer, so that they were now definitely in each other’s personal space. “Thank you.”

He laughed. “You don’t have to thank me. What part, exactly, of ‘I love you’, did you not get?”

“Oh,” Alfred mumbled, and then leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Herbert’s shoulder, all of the fight leaving him. Herbert lifted his hand and placed it lightly on Alfred’s back. 

“I’m sorry that I scared you,” he whispered into his hair. 

“Oh, no, it’s alright…”

“No, it’s not, Alfred.”

“I-I guess, but I really s-shouldn’t have just shoved you off like that, i-it was very rude.”

“Dearest,” Herbert interrupted, keeping his voice gentle. “True, next time I’d appreciate it if you simply told me, but if you ever shove me again because I cross a limit you don’t want me to cross, I’m not going to get angry with you.”

“Oh,” Alfred mumbled, his breath warm against the skin exposed by Herbert’s loose shirt. “I… I probably won’t shove you around much, um.”

Herbert did his best to contain his laughter. “A pity, really.”

“What?”

“Nothing, darling,” he let his free hand run through Alfred’s hair, happy when he felt the boy relax even more. Alfred suddenly pressed his face even closer and groaned. 

“I overreacted, didn’t I?”

“No.”

“But I did.”

Herbert sighed, and then gave in to his desire to pull Alfred in close, their bodies flush against each other and his arms tight around him. Alfred reacted on instinct, fisting his hands in the back of Herbert’s shirt, and he had to stop the purr of pleasure that such a simple gesture evoked. 

“You didn’t,” he said again. “You’re fine.”

“I’m sorry that I made you come all the way over here just because I was sulking.”

“Alfred, stop apologising.”

“Oh, I’m sor…”

“I will get really angry with you if you do.”

The boy let out a low sound and kept his mouth shut completely. Herbert buried his face in the crook of his neck. 

“You apologise _too much_ ,” he said. “Why do you do that?”

Alfred hesitated – but Herbert had not really expected an answer. Alfred already clammed up tight whenever they came across the subject of anything before he had arrived here with the Professor. Herbert knew more about Alfred’s _death_ than he did about his life, and considering how painful the former had been, it worried him a bit, the unwillingness in the boy to share such details. He hardly even knew what he had studied – he didn’t know if he had any family waiting for him back there, wondering what had happened, and Alfred had made no arguments to go back to them. In Herbert’s experience, no new vampire with still-living family did not want to at least see them, if it was to kiss them or kill them or make them join them in eternity. Alfred had not even mentioned them. 

It was slightly unfair, because Herbert found that there was so much he wanted to tell Alfred, so much he had already told him, and he doubted there was anything in Alfred’s past as horrendous as some of the things Herbert had done. He was old – very old. He had stories that would probably make Alfred run away in real terror, but one day, he would tell him. He would. 

“You’re holding me too tight,” Alfred whispered then, stumbling over the words as if still unsure that he was allowed to say things like that, and Herbert quickly loosened his grip. 

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back so that he could see Alfred’s face. “See, _Mon Cheri_? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Alfred scrunched his nose when he smiled like that, and it was the cutest thing Herbert had ever been fortunate enough to witness. He had to stop himself from drawing him back into their embrace. “No,” Alfred said. “I guess it wasn’t.”

Herbert hummed in contentment, lifting a hand to play with the curls at the nape of Alfred’s neck. “So, we can go back to kissing now?”

Alfred ducked his head in embarrassment. “I suppose.”

“Alfred, dearest?”

“Um, yes?”

Herbert laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It helps if I can actually reach your lips.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He froze. Was Alfred actually _teasing_ him?

“Yes, darling,” he said, drawing the words out. Alfred shifted in his hold. “I’m fairly certain you know the drill with kissing by now.”

Alfred finally lifted his head. “I think you need to show me again.” he said, and Herbert laughed in delight. 

“I can do that, my sweet,” and proceeded to pick Alfred right off the floor, for a moment forgetting exactly how jittery Alfred currently was. But the young vampire only yelped in surprise before winding his arms tight around Herbert’s neck, and letting himself be put on the bed, Herbert pressing his weight down on him like the night before, finally getting to kiss him again. They stayed like that for a little while, before Herbert broke away, moving down Alfred’s throat again. He only tensed a little bit, before visibly relaxing again, and Herbert couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at Alfred’s new ease with this. He nipped at the soft skin there, and then pulled away, lying down on his side facing Alfred instead, his arm still around him. 

“You know what else we could do?” Herbert asked, keeping his voice soft. “We could go to Königsberg.”

To his surprise, Alfred went tense beside him. Again.

“I…” he opened his mouth, eyes darting back and forth and then down to the sheets between them. “I… I suppose.”

Herbert swallowed at the sense that he had just said something wrong. “If you want to, of course.”

“No, no, sure, I want to.” Alfred hurriedly said. “I’d… I mean, I’d like to see h-how the Professor’s doing, I guess, if h-he m-made it o-out alive a-and…”

“Relax, dearest,” Herbert reached out to cradle the back of his head. “What’s wrong?”

“S-sorry,” he stammered, and Herbert had to bite his tongue not to yet again repeat that he should stop apologising so much: him getting stroppy with Alfred right now would hardly help. “I… we can go to Königsberg, yes.”

Herbert sighed, because Alfred still looked so crestfallen. He leaned over and pressed another kiss on his soft lips. “We can talk about it later,” he said, realising that maybe now Alfred was… was getting homesick. Oh, that had not been his intention. What if Alfred would want to stay in Königsberg now? What if he demanded that they leave right away? 

No, no Alfred had willingly left with the Professor in the first place, and he had stayed here for a year now, a long time for someone who had recently still been human. There could not be something so important in Königsberg that he would want to leave Herbert right away. 

_He’s changed_ , a voice at the back of Herbert’s mind reminded him. _He’s scared of himself, what he might do._ He thought of the broken, sobbing mess that had almost killed someone. Herbert had almost let him, that day, because it was _natural_ for those of their kind, it was simply the way things were, but he had known, with as fierce a certainty that he knew he loved the boy, that Alfred would never forgive himself for taking a human life. So he had pulled him away and ensured that the girl would live, and held him while his love spent hours hating himself for getting so close. 

Perhaps the castle, for Alfred, was simply a hide out. The only place he thought that he _could_ be, now that he was a vampire. 

Herbert had tried to do his best to show Alfred that his life wasn’t over just because he was dead (a paradox, surely, but one laughed in the face of such things and then danced on the nay-sayers graves – often quite literally), that he could be safe and happy, even more so than in his old life, but maybe it had not fully worked. Maybe Alfred was only content, and secretly longed for his old life back. Or for something completely different, something that Sarah too, had sought outside the castle’s walls, but being Alfred, he was merely too scared to go out there and find it. 

It was a truth that Alfred hated what he was, and by extension, he couldn’t ever fully accept what Herbert was either, and… he would leave. Simple as that. Perhaps even soon, now that Sarah was back to sweep him away or give him ideas of what kind of world she had seen. Alfred had already shown interest before, getting so excited and eager every time Herbert started talking about some of the other vampires he knew, and it was very likely that there was a hidden longing for another place in there. 

“Herbert?” Alfred’s voice broke through his thoughts, a light hand placed on his chest, right where his heart hadn’t beaten for centuries. There was a worried look in his eyes, and a slight bruise fading slowly on his neck from where Herbert’s human teeth had laid a mark. Herbert blinked and did his best to focus again, smiling slightly at him: Alfred was lying here, with him, he had to remind himself. It would be a discredit to assume that Alfred had made that choice lightly.

“I’m all fine, dear heart,” he assured him, Alfred’s hand tightening slightly in his shirt and sending warmth coursing through him. “I was only thinking how lovely Paris is at this time of the year. We should really go see it, some day.”

To his great delight, Alfred looked excited at the idea, and he also looked too irresistible not to kiss again. If he wanted to leave, Herbert thought, he would just have to give him as many reasons to stay with him as possible. 

And then, at least, he would have tried. 

*

“Rise and shine! Oh, rise and shine!”

The lid to Magda’s coffin was rather forcefully shoved off, and Herbert only just managed to move out of the way so he wouldn’t get hit by it. The red-head glared out at him. 

“What do you _want_? Your knocking is _incessant._ Has the sun even set yet?”

“Boy, you get cranky in the evening.”

“I’ll show you cranky, right in the…”

“Language!” Herbert gasped, feigning shock. “To hear such crude tones from such a fine young lady…”

“I’ll give you _fine!”_

He smiled at her, hoping it was blinding. “I’m sure you will.”

Her lips twitched as she finally climbed out, though she was still glaring. “Why are you waking me so early?” 

“I need your help,” he said, and his voice most certainly did not come out in a whine, or anything resembling a plea – he did not plead. Not even to Magda. 

“Of course you do,” she grumbled, slapping the lid back on and rubbing at her eyes. “Is this about Alfred?”

“How did you know?” Herbert asked, sitting down on her coffin with a tired sign. Magda glared again, and sat cross-legged down beside him. 

“You have your ‘Alfred is being Alfred, and I’m in love but I don’t know what to do’-face on,” she said, her words coming out in a rush. “It’s a name in progress,” she added, as Herbert stared. “But it gets to the point. What do you need?”

“He’s…” Herbert hesitated. “I think he’s unhappy.”

“How come?”

Herbert let out a small huff. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him truly happy.” He certainly hadn’t been happy when he had first arrived, and he still seemed so… overcome with melancholy, all too often for Herbert’s liking. 

“He’s happy when he’s with you.” Magda said. 

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Magda sighed. “But if you’re so worried, why don’t you just go ask him what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to overwhelm him,” Herbert mumbled, feeling impatient now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered that already. “You will have noticed how bad he is at admitting his own discomfort. It goes back to how damn polite he is.”

“Yeah, he really isn’t selfish enough, is he?” Magda laughed, running a hand through her hair. “But really, Herbert, I’m not your love-manual.”

“Oh, I know. I’d have gotten a better one. Ouch!” he gasped, grasping his arm where she had hit. “Magda!”

“I wish Alfred would give you some of his politeness,” she said. “One would think you’d catch _something_ with how far your tongue’s been down his throat.”

“Oh, really,” Herbert mumbled in distaste, but then remembered the night before, lying on Alfred’s bed, and how soft his skin had been – he’d kept his hand on Herbert’s chest, and it had meant the world, because Alfred was always so hesitant to touch, never initiated it, always scared of crossing those bridges. But he’d held onto Herbert last night. 

“Hello?” Magda waved a hand in front of his face, and Herbert irritably snatched out to grasp a hold of it, making her stop. She only sniggered, even when he tightened his grip slightly. “Do I need to leave you alone for a bit? Private moment?”

“Be nice,” he pouted, suddenly happy that he had never had any siblings growing up, or in the last few centuries. Not that he would trade Magda for anything, but she would have probably killed him had she known him as a brat. 

It would have been a shame all around. 

“I am being nice, I’m helping you, aren’t I?” it was her turn to huff, drawing her hand out of his grip. “Talk to him. Confess your undying love to him. Literally undying. As long as I can go back to sleep.”

Herbert pouted at her. “You’re being staggeringly unhelpful.”

Her response was to grasp his chin, turning his head so that she could glare him down. “I am telling you to actually _talk_ to Alfred. That is _excellent_ advice, and you will follow it. Understood?”

“I’ll try.”

Magda sighed. “I’m sleeping now. I’ll go to the crypt and dump down in your actual tomb if you don’t move.”

“Don’t sleep too long,” Herbert admonished, grinning when her response was a string of curses in his general direction.  Something about making his spleen into a soup-bowl. She really was fun when she was tired. 

*

“Darling, are you awake?” Herbert pushed the still-broken door open, twirling the rose he was holding between his fingers. 

Alfred startled a little, sitting at his desk, and turned his head to look at Herbert.

“Hi,” he said. “I-I am.”

“Good,” Herbert smiled and walked over to him, surprised when he stood up so quickly the chair scraped backwards with a loud whine. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Alfred said, all too quickly, his eyes darting back down to the desk. “Yes, um… I… is that for me?” he asked, voice strangely high. Herbert looked down at the rose, and handed it to him with a flourish. 

“Who else, my sweet?”

“Thank you,” Alfred said, taking a hold of it carefully, using his other hand to push one of the books on the table over whatever he had been doing before Herbert had stormed in. He had to squash down the urge to snatch at it, or just demand for Alfred to let him see it, curiosity spiking to almost unbearable levels, but he bit down against it: trust was important if this was going to work, and so was letting Alfred do things in his own time, and have his own things in general. He would just have to accept that there were certain aspects of Alfred’s life that he was not willing to let Herbert into. 

“So, what do you want to do today, dearest?” he asked instead, hoping to distract himself. 

“I’m meeting with Sarah in a moment,” Alfred said, absentmindedly looking at the rose. Herbert felt his heart clench. “But I was wondering if you would maybe give me another riding lesson later?”

Hm, spending a lot of time with Alfred pressed back against him, while bumping up and down?

“I’d love that,” Herbert said, smiling brightly, and secretly wondering when exactly Alfred and Sarah had had time to lay any kind of plans. He hadn’t gone back to his own room until the sun had started peeking over the mountains this morning, and it was ‘fucking early’ now, as Magda had so eloquently put it a few moments ago. “What, um, what are you and Sarah doing?”

Alfred hesitated, and oh, that was another clench around his unbeating heart, how lovely. _It doesn’t mean anything_ , he firmly told himself, shifting uncomfortably. 

“I’m… I, I don’t know if she’s spoken to the Count or anything, but she wants to go down to the village,” he mumbled. “She just wants to see if her mother’s alright!” he quickly added. “She mentioned taking Magda, because she didn’t want to go alone, b-but then I offered, but of course, if Magda wants to see her old home, s-she can come.”

Herbert clenched his jaw. “Sarah doesn’t need permission to go down to the village,” he said. _And neither do you, but thank you for telling me._ “But I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

“Oh,” Alfred said, and frowned then. “Well, it’ll only be quick and I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything foolish.”

_I don’t care what she does, I don’t want_ you _to get hurt._

“Maybe I should…” he started, but then stopped himself again. He was being too clingy, and he was being overprotective, and smothering and Alfred would _leave_ if he felt himself become trapped. There were oh so many reasons why Herbert didn’t want him to do this, and only about half of them stemmed from petty jealousy: if the villagers discovered them, and got angry enough, Alfred could get seriously hurt. While Herbert had no illusions as to what Sarah would be capable of to defend herself, he wasn’t so sure about what Alfred would be willing to do. Or how he would react if instinct kicked in, and he found himself in the middle of a bloody aftermath, the very perpetuator of such a thing. He wanted to demand that Alfred not go at all, or demand that he go with them, make sure that Sarah didn’t get them into trouble, but it would not be fair to Alfred, or to what they were trying to build. Hopefully together. 

“Maybe I should go look in the music room for some old pieces, and then later I can play for you,” he finished, instantly feeling better when Alfred’s face lit up. 

“I’d love that,” he said, placing the rose carefully on the desk. “I have to go, we’re…”

Herbert reached out quickly, grasping his arm and pulling him back. “I’m not even getting a goodbye kiss?” he asked, watching Alfred grow all flustered. 

“W-well, I’m…” he cleared his throat. “Of course,” he said then, and pressed their mouths together. Herbert was so shocked he didn’t even have time to react before Alfred had pulled back again, bidding him a good night with a big smile and walking out the door. 

Herbert may have stood in Alfred’s room for three whole minutes afterwards, staring into space, but at least no one was around to see. 

*

Alfred and Sarah did not come home only a few hours later, as one would expect, and as Alfred had said, but Herbert squashed his impatience and his worry, instead resorting himself to spending his night in the music room, and not at all because surely Alfred would come looking for him there right away, it was actually because the music room had become quite a mess over the years, and he wasn’t able to find anything. It was completely for that reason, and that reason only. 

“Did you _clean_ ,” Herbert had never heard Father sound so shocked. Not that he appeared very shocked to the untrained eye: shocked for Father was mildly expressive for regular people. But he did currently look, to Herbert, the very trained eye, as if he had just seen the world end and come back all in the same night. 

Herbert turned around to survey his handiwork. “I did,” he said, smiling widely. All the instruments had been placed neatly back in their boxes, or put to the side, and the sheet music had been stacked or put back into their respective folders. His smile faltered. “Oh, what did I _do_.”

“Alfred’s a good influence,” Father said, voice gruff. “He’s staying.” And then, just to be dramatic, he turned around and excited the room with a broad swish of his coat. He had stolen that move from _him_ , Herbert grumbled internally, looking at the room and fighting the urge to trash the place all over again. 

Alfred still wasn’t home. 

It was nearing sunlight, and they _still_ weren’t home, and Herbert was getting a sinking feeling in his chest. They weren’t coming back: gone back to the village? They had _left._ Alfred had gotten his chance, and he had been too _scared_ of the monster that Herbert was to simply tell the truth, to do anything but think of an escape now that Sarah was here. He wouldn’t have to be caged here anymore, he was free, and Herbert was _glad_. He shoved at the sheet-music, watching the paper flutter in the air before falling slowly, drifting to the ground and nestling in a heap on the floor, he _was glad_ that Alfred wasn’t here anymore, he was baring his teeth in a smile because at least _one_ of them had gotten what they wanted.

The door behind him slammed open, and he was still snarling as he turned around, though it faded instantly as he saw Magda, her face a mask of worry. 

“The village is on fire,” she said, breathing quickly, large gulps of air like she still needed them to keep steady – Herbert suddenly felt like he did too. “Alfred and Sarah are still down there!”

 

**_*_ **

****

This was the second time Alfred had fed from him, but this time, it was painful, and not just because Herbert’s insides still felt like they were crumbling slowly, rotting to ash with the thoughts of what had almost happened. He was exhausted and drained, and injured himself, and had it been anyone else, except for perhaps Father or Magda, Herbert would have waited for them to recuperate on their own, content in the knowledge of how strong vampire’s healing factor truly was – a thing he himself had experienced many times. But even though he could feel every single pull and drain as a physical ache, it was worth it to watch the burns and gashes on Alfred skin melt away slowly. He was still too weak to sit up on his own though, leaning against Herbert heavily. He pulled his arm away from Alfred’s mouth, and he did not even protest, except for a slight fluttering of his eyelids: he was probably not even aware that Herbert was there, not aware of Sarah crying in the corner or Magda’s quiet attempts to soothe her. 

“See now, these silks were my favourites,” he mumbled gently, feeling the need to talk, so someone would at least block out the storm in his head. “And now they’re all ruined sitting on the dirty ground down here. The next time I go shopping, you’re coming along and you _have_ to tell me how good I look at least once, is that a deal?”

Alfred muttered something too quiet for him to hear, and Herbert buried his face in the boy’s hair, not caring about the ash and dirt that clung to it. Underneath the stench of blood and fear there was _Alfred_ , and he was still there, soon to be whole and well in his arms again. Herbert hoped he would wake up soon, despite also hoping that they could get back to the castle first: he would much prefer his love to wake up in a comfortable bed after the night’s ordeal, instead of some dirty basement in an abandoned house, but he was frightened to contemplate what it meant if Alfred stayed in his near-catatonic state for much longer. Sarah, despite being shocked and distressed, had seemed to gather her wits around her quite quickly, but Herbert had also noticed that she was much less injured than Alfred. The young girl had been clutching at Alfred’s sleeve when they had gotten there, screaming bloody murder, and Alfred had been bleeding and burning on the ground, and Herbert had thought he knew what it was like to have a stake driven through his heart in that moment.

“Please come back to me,” he whispered, and to his great surprise, Alfred stirred, turning his head so that his nose brushed against his throat, his breath cold against his skin. 

“Herbert?” he whispered, voice scratchy from all the smoke. 

He let out an involuntary sound of relief. “Yes, darling, I’m here.”

Alfred coughed. “What happened? Is everyone alright?” he startled slightly, though he was still too weak to even jostle Herbert’s grip. “Oh god, is Sarah…”

“Sarah’s fine, everyone’s fine,” Herbert shushed him gently. “We just have to sit tight until the sun goes down, and then we can get you back to the castle.”

Alfred moved again, glancing behind. “Where are we?”

“We’re in an old farm, in the basement. We’re safe,” Herbert promised, running his hands through Alfred’s hair as the boy coughed again. “Just rest, darling, we’ll be home soon.”

“Herbert, what happened to your face?!” Alfred had twisted up more to look at him, eyes well enough now to see him properly. Herbert looked away from the horror and worry on his face, wincing as Alfred lifted a trembling hand to touch at the burn marring his cheek. 

“It’ll heal,” he said. 

“Why hasn’t it healed already? What _happened_?””

Herbert closed his eyes, one of them still marred white and red and unable to gaze on much of anything, and leaned down to bury his face in Alfred’s neck, ignoring the ache in his shoulders and back where more burns stretched. Oh, but his clothes really were horrendously ruined. 

“It will heal.”

“It _should_ have healed already,” Alfred huffed, pushing at his chest, which did not do much of anything because he was still weak as a kitten. “I am not stupid, Herbert.”

“I know you’re not.” But damn him for not being so, at least in this moment. “Alfred, I have endured far worse,” _like watching you burn and bleed_. “And it will heal, and I will be perfectly fine soon.”

“You gave me your blood, didn’t you.” Alfred sounded like a teacher about to lecture him, and Herbert would have to contemplate how utterly attractive he sounded like that at a more appropriate time. 

“Alfred…” 

“The sun burned you,” the boy really was far too clever for his own good. “It was already rising when… when they saw us, a-and you must have been caught by it getting us away. You’re _at least_ as injured as I am, and you gave me your blood, how _foolish_ could you…”

“I am _centuries_ older than you, Alfred,” Herbert did his outmost not to yell, but his voice still carried, and Alfred grew quiet instantly. “Don’t call me a fool for knowing what kind of hurt I can take, and don’t _ever_ call me a fool for worrying about you, do you understand?”

Alfred’s breathing was slightly shallow, his whole body tense. “Y-yes,” he stammered. “I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t until something wet hit Herbert’s collarbone that he realised the boy was crying, shaking slightly, still weak and fatigued. He was still muttering apologies and clinging to Herbert, a treat had it not been for the situation. 

“It’s alright,” he mumbled, clutching him tighter. “I’m not angry.” Oh, he was, but it wasn’t fair to let it out on Alfred. 

Alfred let out something that sounded like a laugh, except he was still crying. “Just worried.”

“Yes,” Herbert closed his eyes again. “I was very worried about you.”

“W-we didn’t mean for this to happen, you know,” he said. “We really were just going to… I don’t even really know what, but everything happened so fast, and they just went straight for Sarah, a-and I couldn’t let them hurt her.”

Herbert let out a sigh. “I know.”

“You saved us,” Alfred said then, taking Herbert completely by surprise. “Thank you.”

He almost wanted to laugh, but he still felt like he was burning. “Doing nothing while you get hurt isn’t an option, _Liebling_. Now, rest, please.”

For once Alfred did as he was bid without protest or apologies. Herbert fell into an uneasy slumber, leaning against the wall, half-awake to listen for any signs that the villagers may have somehow found their hiding spot, or that Alfred would somehow get worse instead of better. By the next wall, Sarah was fast asleep with her head pillowed on Magda’s stomach, the red-head mumbling quietly in her own rest. The burns on her skin, even more apparent through the flimsy sleep-clothes she hadn’t bothered to change out of before storming with him, were healing fast and good, courtesy of the attacking villager Herbert had shoved in her direction the same morning. Of the four of them, he probably looked the worst right now, which was a wholly distressing thought, though not as distressing as the pain of the younger ones, too unaccustomed to sitting through the healing process without panic flooding in unbeating hearts. Herbert still remembered the first time had been badly burned by the sun, so young and ready to mistake foolishness for bravery. 

He looked down at Alfred again, his eye now at least healed enough to see, and thought if the same was true for what he had done tonight, he didn’t care one whit. The lines of pain had faded from Alfred face, and though his sleep still seemed uneasy, he was far away and getting better. 

Herbert woke them up as the moon finally rose, knowing the villagers would be too scared to move outside by now, if they had indeed even kept looking for this long. He was tempted to simply scoop Alfred up in his arms and carry him back to the castle, but he seemed steady enough on his legs once he stood up, and Herbert was content when Alfred reached for his hand without prompting, leaning on him slightly. 

Father met up with them halfway, coming from the other path leading from the village. He had his eyes focused on Herbert who only cringed slightly when he stalked over and tilted his face up to inspect the burns, mumbling under his breath about overzealous sons and impulsive behaviour, drawing blood from his own skin so his ‘ridiculous offspring’ could heal, and causing Alfred to jump in surprise at the action. 

The rest of the way back to the castle went easier after that, following the trails by moonlight, but Herbert was still grateful when they finally got back. He was even more grateful when Alfred did not seem inclined to let go of his hand, because he was not quite sure what he would have done had the boy bid him a goodnight then and there and gone to his own rooms alone. Herbert didn’t think he could be away from Alfred right now, if possibly ever. They should really just get chained together. The benefits would far outweigh some of the following awkwardness, Herbert was sure. It would probably also be the only way to ensure that Alfred didn’t get hurt again. 

Sarah stopped in front of them before going to her own room, her hand quickly darting down to grasp at Alfred’s free one. 

“I’m really sorry,” she whispered, head ducked low, and Alfred gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand back. Herbert thought him all too forgiving, but Sarah herself was still looking so shaken that he could not quite find it in himself to be angry with her. He knew he was being petty – on the way to the village, he had been furious, thinking that perhaps she had planned a riot all along, going for revenge like so many vampires did, but it truly seemed to have not been her fault. A dash of carelessness that he found it hard to blame her for, when she had only wanted to see her mother. 

Centuries later, and Herbert would still do many things for a glimpse of his own mother. The difference was that none of those things included endangering Alfred. 

“I need a wash,” Alfred mumbled, eyeing the door to the bathroom. 

“Need any help, sweetheart?” Herbert purred, though it was only half-hearted because he knew Alfred would really not be up for anything right now. 

“Sure,” he said, and Herbert used about thirty seconds too long to process it, because Alfred started snickering quietly. “Come on,” he said, the tiredness and rush from the previous night’s events melting a large portion of the shyness and hesitance away, as he pulled at Herbert’s hand, leading them in. He stopped once he had closed the door behind them however, as if unsure what quite happened next, eyes blinking heavily. 

“Here,” Herbert muttered, taking the lead and helping him out of his shirt. “Oh, this is hurting me too much. So much clothing, simply ruined,” he sighed deeply, throwing the torn shirt on the floor and catching Alfred’s smile out of the corner of his eye. He was crossing his arms in front of his chest, and Herbert gave himself a mental pat on the shoulder for not letting his eyes linger _too_ long. It was a shame that they were both too exhausted to properly appreciate this brilliant moment, but Herbert’s mind was already having fun considering future bathroom-shenanigans involving Alfred. He could wait, he really could. 

“Is this alright?” he asked, stepping forward and sliding his fingers along the boy’s waist, tucking just inside the cotton of his pants. The blood Alfred had drunk earlier was still thrumming through him, which meant he smelt like _him_ , and it was absolutely intoxicating. 

“Y-yeah,” Alfred muttered, for once not looking down, though there had to be something very fascinating on Herbert’s shoulder indeed to make him stare so hard. 

“This is interesting,” he muttered, tracing light circles over his skin to watch him shiver. “I never knew vampires could blush.”

For a moment Alfred only looked mortified, but then he huffed, glancing at Herbert before looking away again, his lips twitching in what Herbert would swear was a smile. 

“You know, this is unfair,” he muttered then, new conviction in his voice. “You’re still wearing your shirt.”

Herbert’s smile must be as giddy as he felt. “You’re right, _Mon Cheri_ , that is a grave injustice.” The shirt was a lost cause anyway, which meant it was even easier to take off, as he didn’t have to worry about snatching any of the stitching or accidentally crumbling it beyond saving. It was easy, after that, to get them both out of the rest of their clothes: he quickly discovered how pliant Alfred became when he scraped his blunt teeth over the boy’s bottom lip, soothing the slight hurt with his tongue afterwards. 

And then Herbert absolutely ruined the moment by dumping a bucket of cold water over them both. 

“ _Eugh!”_ Alfred yelled, teeth clattering. “ _Herbert!”_

“Sorry,” he laughed. “But we were positively filthy.” _About to get filthier, but._

Alfred glared. “I hate being cold,” he told him, and before Herbert even had time to respond to such a statement, he had been pushed into the water in the large tub, splashing it everywhere. He spluttered, and blinked the water out of his eyes, snatching his arm backwards to pull Alfred in with him before he could do anything else. The boy yelped loudly, grapping at him for a hold, and Herbert hoisted him up by the waist, using the opportunity to sit down, the water lapping around them both. He laughed as Alfred clung to him again, clearly still wary that he’d pull a trick in revenge. 

“You know, you can’t actually drown,” he pointed out, blowing air over the soft skin at his collarbone, making Alfred shiver. “And aren’t you warm now?”

“Yes, much warmer,” Alfred said. “Thank you, for making me see my whole life flash before my eyes.”

Herbert let out a delighted laugh. “You get _plucky_ when you’re tired.”

“Sorry,” Alfred instantly said, and Herbert’s sigh was deep and bone-deep tired. Alfred looked down. “I think I’m still reeling a bit.”

Of course he was. Herbert clenched his jaw, cursing himself for failing to make Alfred feel better. Cursing himself for letting this happen in the first place – he’d had a bad feeling, had known what could happen, had known that for all that Sarah had survived a whole year seemingly on her own, and for all that Alfred was intelligent and capable of much more than he allowed himself to believe, things _happened_ , they went wrong, and they especially went wrong for impulsive, young vampires who did not yet know how to use their strengths or cover their weaknesses. Herbert wondered if they had even discovered that the sun was rising before it had been too late. He’d have to test Alfred on his ability to sense it, to know the time of night like he had once known the time of day from only small, tell-tale signs. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he said, running his fingers along Alfred’s neck, up his chin and tracing his lips. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

“Their village burned down…”

“Most of it survived,” Herbert interrupted, knowing that Alfred was about to embark down the pitchfork and torches-road, and knowing how nightmarish it could seem for one so young, a mob of angry people coming to take away everything you knew. “And it was one of their own who started the fire, in a panic. They are still too scared to come here.” _Especially after they saw Father. And Magda did gloriously as well._ “And if they do come,” he leaned closer, pressing his lips to the corner of Alfred’s mouth. “We’ll wake the sleepers, and they get cranky when they get woken too early.”

Alfred shivered and pulled away, getting out of the tub. He was still looking a little shaky, but he ignored the hand that Herbert automatically extended to help. He picked up a towel almost absentmindedly and disappeared through the door that led to Herbert’s bedroom. He was busy pulling on some of the clothes he’d forgotten there earlier when he came in. Herbert spent a few moments enjoying the view, before the tension grew and he decided to get dressed as well, though not without an inner sigh, and some trepidation – Alfred’s shoulders had gone tense, and his arms were folded over his chest. 

“I don’t want you to do that,” he finally said, turning around to face Herbert. “You can’t just… let them loose on a bunch of people, just because they happen to be scared. Rightfully scared, I’d like to add.”

Herbert sighed. “Alfred, if our home is being threatened, we are going to defend it.”

“But it’s wrong,” he insisted, and Herbert felt the last threads of his patience snap. 

“So you’d rather they torch you, is that it?” he asked, voice sharp enough to startle Alfred. “Because I _wonder_ about that sometimes,” he spat the last bit out, ugly fear welling in his chest. He regretted his words as soon as they had left his mouth, but as had so often been his experience in the past, it was difficult to catch them again once they hung in the air. 

There were tears clinging to Alfred’s eyelashes now. “What are you saying?” he asked, though it was clear he already knew the answer, his face frightened. 

“I think you meant to ask how I knew,” Herbert kept his voice more gentle this time, but he wasn’t able to take the sting completely out of his words. 

“No,” Alfred sounded angrier than Herbert had even thought him capable of. “No.”

“Just no?”

“You’re wrong,” Alfred said, as if that could somehow cement it. He opened his mouth, but then had to close it to stop a sob slipping through. Herbert kept his stance, willing himself not to break. “Are you… are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Are you kidding me?” he was yelling now, and regretting it, but unable to stop. “I just spent hours trying to keep you well and whole, I thought you would be gone, I thought you’d taken off, and then I thought… then I thought…” he couldn’t even say it, the words stuck in his throat. 

“You thought I’d taken off?” Oh, Alfred, of all the things to focus on. 

“When you didn’t come back, I figured you had left with Sarah.” It was humiliating, to admit it, but at least it would be silly foolishness, and not lies that made him lose Alfred in the end. 

“You thought I’d… you thought I’d run off with her?” Alfred’s voice was incredulous, and Herbert fixed him with a stare. 

“Are you saying you don’t want to?” 

The look on Alfred’s face was unreadable, and the silence grew heavy between them. 

“I’d go with her if you were coming too,” he mumbled then, sounding defeated, as if he hadn’t just said something to melt Herbert’s anger like snow under the sun. 

“Dearest,” he mumbled, and took one step forward, and Alfred took three and was in his arms again. 

“Why would you think I’d leave,” Alfred muttered, his voice muffled as he pressed it against Herbert’s shirt. He laughed without humour and kissed the top of Alfred’s head, damp hair tickling his nose and mouth. 

“I don’t know,” he lied. “I don’t… I’m sorry.” There were merits to apologising, after all. 

“I promised I’d stay,” he sounded so stubborn about it, and he _had_ promised. “I… I told you that I… t-that I loved you.”

He had. Herbert had been a fool to forget. 

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, and I love you, I love you so much.”

“That’s nice.” Alfred’s voice was growing sleepy again. Herbert wasn’t ready to let him go. 

“There’s room in my coffin for two,” he blurted out, and Alfred giggled, which was adorable enough to make Herbert feel like he was melting then and there. 

“So romantic,” and he _kept_ on giggling: Herbert wondered how Alfred was even standing with how tired he was. “Your _coffin.”_

He sighed, fighting the smile that was tucking at his own lips. “Time for bed, then?”

“Much better.”

This time, at least, Herbert did get to carry Alfred off. He was asleep almost instantly, holding onto Herbert like he didn’t intend to let go, in any near future or possibly ever.

*

Alfred woke him during the day, and Herbert jolted awake, mouth dry and an odd sensation that his heart had been beating wildly in his chest, despite its stagnation for years upon years. 

“I think you were having a nightmare,” he whispered, eyes wide and his nails digging into Herbert’s arm uncomfortably. Herbert licked his lips, staring at the inside of the coffin’s lid above them, trying to calm himself down. 

He hadn’t had a nightmare since… he couldn’t even remember. Around the time King Charles XII of Sweden had gotten that bear drunk, though he was fairly certain the nightmare hadn’t been about _that._ He blinked, trying to shake the last feelings of terror off himself. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, because Alfred was still staring at him, and the boy sighed in relief and pressed his cheek against Herbert’s chest. 

“You called my name,” he said then, surprising Herbert, who half-thought he had gone back to sleep. “You sounded really scared, and I couldn’t wake you up.”

“It’s alright, _Liebling_ ,” he muttered, running long fingers through his hair. The nightmare still felt too far away to grasp, but suddenly he was wide awake. “Go back to sleep.” The sun was still high up outside, and Herbert was sorry that he had woken him like this. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Alfred asked, worry filling his voice. Herbert smiled. 

“Yes, darling. You must be tired…”

“I can stay up,” he protested, sounding like an angry little puppy. 

“Really, Alfred…”

“I’ll go to sleep when you go to sleep.”

Was he that transparent? Herbert huffed in irritation, but he couldn’t help but be touched by Alfred’s stubborn gesture. 

“Fair enough,” he said after a long pause, running his hand up and down Alfred’s back, hoping he could lull him into some kind of rest anyway. He was still healing, and he needed it. “You could talk to me about the university?”

“The…” Alfred hesitated. “Yes. I-I’m not sure what there is to tell, really.”

“What did you study?”

“Erm, History.”

“My favourite subject,” Herbert smiled brightly, scratching slightly down the length of his spine. “Did you like it?”

“I-I suppose. I liked my teachers well enough. E-except for one. He was kinda out of it. He set a building on fire.”

Herbert let out a surprised laugh. “What?”

“Yeah, he thought there were evil spirits haunting the place. Come to think of it, maybe he did still have his wits after all.”

“Lots of evil spirits in Königsberg,” Herbert mumbled, only half-teasing. “And the Professor?”

“W-well, I n-needed ah, um, an intern spot, I s-suppose and I think I was tired of staying in the same place that I’d been all my life. He was one of the only ones that was traveling, a-and I guess I thought he was a little mad at first, but he was very nice, and, Transylvania sounded exciting? For some reason that I’ve completely forgotten now.”

“And your parents, they were fine with you leaving?” it was a cautious question, and Herbert thought himself slightly pathetic for doing it this way, and not just asking about Alfred’s family outright. But he was burning to know, had been for a while, and in his eagerness it had slipped out before he could stop himself. 

Alfred went tense and silent against him. 

“I… they weren’t really around.”

Ah. “I’m sorry, darling,” he tightened his grip slightly in what he hoped was a supportive gesture, half-afraid that Alfred would pull away now, and not want to talk to him anymore. 

“It’s… I never really knew them,” he said, and then it was as if some dam broke, as he pressed himself even closer to Herbert and continued talking. “I was left at the doorstep of this orphanage at the edge of the city. The doctors estimated that I was only a few days old. One of the older kids gave me my name, and she sort of, she looked after me, but then she… she died from consumption when I was ten. Her name was Elise. A-and the women running the orphanage, they were nice enough, but I… I hated it there. I really hated it. And I guess I thought… I worked really hard to get into the university because I thought maybe I’d… I wouldn’t feel so alone there.”

Herbert had an idea of how difficult it would be for an orphan boy to get into a highly esteemed university. He must have worked hard – and yet he had left it all behind. 

“But you still did?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet, afraid to break Alfred out of the sharing-mood he had fallen into. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I was never really satisfied. With my own work or with the… with the classes, or what they wanted us to do when we were finished, a-and the Professor’s work just sounded really exciting in comparison, e-even if everyone thought he was just a complete fool. And he… well, he has a way about him, the Professor, but he didn’t treat me differently than any of the other students, he even… I mean, he respected me more than a lot of the others, and he wasn’t really, he spoke to people according to his impression of them, no matter how old they were or what they were doing, or where they came from. I liked that. I think that’s why I went with him, even though I knew Transylvania was the freezing entrance to hell.”

Herbert let out a startled laugh at Alfred’s off-put words, reaching up to tug lightly at his hair. “I’m so very glad you did go with him,” he said. 

“Yeah?”

“You must know that,” he reached down to pull Alfred up by his waist, so that he could reach his lips in a brief kiss. “I am not sure who to thank for bringing you on the path to me, but they have my most sincere gratitude.”

“O-oh,” Alfred stuttered, sitting up slightly and curling his fingers in Herbert’s shirt. “Um. Well. On their behalf, you’re welcome.”

“I’m glad you told me about all of that,” he said, feeling light and strangely warm, all thoughts of the nightmare long gone to the shadows. Alfred flushed. 

“I-I know it’s not very exciting,” he mumbled. “My life was pretty boring until you dropped in. Or, your father dropped in. Literally. From the ceiling and everything.”

Herbert laughed. “He does that. He is very dramatic.”

“I wonder where you get it from then, if he still has it.”

“Oh!” he reached up, tugging Alfred down again and pulling them around so that he was leaning over him instead, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other propping him up over him. “That was highly rude, _Mon Cheri_. I am not _dramatic_.”

“You are though,” Alfred countered, smiling that soft smile of his. “You’re about the most dramatic person I know.”

Herbert sniffed in disdainful mock-hurt, and Alfred laughed, short and sweet, and oh, Herbert wanted to chase that sound, and make it never stop again. He leaned down and brushed his lips against Alfred’s temple instead. 

“I’ve spent a lot of time, feeling lonely,” he said then, because if Alfred could share something that was obviously uncomfortable for him, then Herbert should do the same. “A _lot_ of time. Father thinks me impatient, but… it is not always easy. He is no different either, and you’ve seen his coping methods – not exactly better than mine. We have each other, of course, and I will always be thankful, but I will also always be his son, and he will always be my wayward, brooding father. Remember what I told you?”

“It’s a large house, for just the two of you,” Alfred echoed his words from all those months ago. 

“I think I killed my cat with an overdose of care, when I was little,” Herbert continued. “I’d like to say I’ve been better with my lovers, but there’s a reason that they’ve left, or that Father has finally snapped and driven them out. If I… I will do what I can, to make you want to stay, but I hope I have made it clear that you are free to leave whenever you wish.”

There was a look of pure confusion, and slight hurt on Alfred’s face. “You said that earlier too,” he mumbled. “And I said I wanted to stay. Why would you… sometimes I feel like you want me to leave, but then you say _that_ , and…”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Herbert said the words in a rush, needing to make Alfred truly hear them. “I… I _never_ want you to leave.”

“But I…” he stopped, hesitating. “I don’t think I understand why you want me to stay. I… you’re… I mean, I’m not a-anything special.”

Herbert closed his eyes briefly, trying to gather his thoughts. When he opened them again, Alfred looked strangely scared, like he was expecting Herbert to kick him out any moment now. 

“You’re very wrong about that,” he finally said, gathering the words and dripping them like drops of conviction on the young boy beneath him. “Your parents, your peers, even Sarah might have thought that, but they were wrong.”

“It’s just, you could… you could have anyone, possibly, and I’m only… I’m me, and I don’t… I’m young and I fell in love with a girl after meeting her once and then I followed her to my own death, and I… I really don’t understand why you would…” he shut himself up, seemingly at a complete loss for words, and Herbert would have gotten annoyed at the boy’s insistence of his own unimportance, if not for the heartbreaking look on Alfred’s face.

He searched for the words to finally convince him. “Alfred, I’m old, and potentially as impatient as my father claims, and I have met more people than were born in your generation across the world, and I have loved at good percentage of those people, but none, absolutely none, as much as I have come to love you.”

“Oh,” Alfred muttered, looking completely flustered. 

“I hope you will at least give me some credit to knowing my own mind, after spending so long with it.”

“I… I do!” he quickly protested, looking away. “I just… sorry.”

Herbert ran a finger down his cheek. “What have we said about apologies?”

“I love you,” was all Alfred said then, ignoring his teasing inquiry, and Herbert was pretty damn sure he was never going to get tired of hearing that. Not for all of eternity. “I-I don’t want to leave. I… don’t feel alone, when I’m with you. When I’m here. I think, y-you and Magda, and maybe even Sarah, you’re the best friends I’ve ever had. I think I’m even starting to get used to your father. I think he smiled at me the other night, but it might have been a sneer. Please stop laughing Herbert, I’m being serious.”

“Yes, of course my love, please go on.”

“I-I… um. I-I’ve never b-been in love before, really, but I… when I think a-about you leaving, I can’t stand it and I know… I know I’m not very good at, at any of this, I think I make a worse vampire than I did a human, and I wasn’t very good at the human-thing to begin w-with, and I k-know I’m inexperienced in all of this, including… uhm, well. Stop grinning like a shark, Herbert. It looks scary.”

“My apologies.” He wasn’t quite able to keep the grin away, however. 

“But I… I want to stay with you. For as long as you want me to.”

Herbert kissed him again. “I want you to stay forever, Alfred.”

“That’s good, forever was already in my schedule.”

He had to bury his face in Alfred’s neck to keep the laughter at bay, his whole body shaking. “You’re _delightful_.” He managed to get out, and Alfred petulantly reached up to tug at his hair. Herbert tensed and then let out a sigh of pleasure. 

“You know, if you want to become more _experienced_ , we could move to the bed and I could definitely help you with that.” He was teasing, but unable to stop himself, his whole body still tingling at the single sensation of Alfred’s hand buried in his hair. He smelled of soap and earth and Herbert’s blood, and he wanted to get lost in that. 

“Alright,” Alfred agreed, to his surprise. “Show me.”

*

Herbert was reading when Alfred came into the library, and though he wanted to fling the book away from himself right away and walk over to greet him, he kept a hold of himself. Father would be very proud. 

Alfred, however, instead of starting to peruse the shelves like he always did, ready to read at any given moment, walked over to him, stopping in front of his chair with an air of shyness that made Herbert lift his gaze to him slowly, closing the book in his hands. 

“Hello, darling,” he said, smiling at him widely, happy when Alfred smiled back. 

“Hi,” he said, rubbing his fingers against the edges of the paper he was holding. “Um, I… have something for you.”

He did his best not to look _too_ excited. “Really? Can I see?”

“It’s just that,” Alfred was looking down at the floor now, and there was rambling coming on, Herbert could feel it. “You, uh, I saw the one you left in my room all that time ago, and I wanted to… well, it took a while because I couldn’t really get around to it, and then I didn’t think it was good enough so I threw out around five copies, and then I, um… Oh, here.” He finally handed Herbert the paper, just as he was getting this close to simply snatching it from him, too eager to see what it was. 

It was a drawing. Of him. 

“Oh,” Herbert said, his hands trembling once before steadying. Alfred was wringing his hands together now in lieu of tearing at the paper. 

“Do you not like it?”

They had paintings, in the castle, some hundreds of years old and others newer, the only way for a vampire to have a proper mirror. Herbert knew what he looked like, knew the tilt of his jaw and the curve of his nose from all too many artists’ interpretations, but this was… 

“This is amazing,” he finally got out, thinking that if this was how Alfred saw him, he definitely didn’t have to worry about him leaving. He grinned widely and reached out, pulling a surprised Alfred down into his lap. “I love it.”

“R-really?” Alfred flailed for a moment, hand gripping at his shoulder. “I don’t…”

“Oh, reversed position, I like this one too.”

_“Herbert!”_

He laughed, snaking his arms around Alfred’s waist, careful not to wrinkle the paper. “It’s wonderful, thank you very much, _Mon Cheri_.”

“Y-you’re welcome,” Alfred muttered, looking embarrassed, yet pleased with himself. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.” he said, pulling him even closer, lightly placing the drawing on the table so it wouldn’t get ruined. “Hmm, hello.”

“Y-you said that already,” Alfred pointed out, as their noses bumped together lightly. “Oh, s-sorry.”

Herbert giggled and did it again, Alfred going cross-eyed to follow his movements. “You know, if you still want to go to Königsberg…”

“It’s fine,” Alfred hastily said, looking down. “I… maybe one day.”

“Well, sweetheart, you have time,” Herbert said. “And the whole world waiting for you out there.”

“I think you mentioned Paris,” he said, leaning his head back against the shoulder, finally getting himself comfortable. Herbert used the opportunity to sneak his hand under Alfred’s shirt, drawing patterns on his skin. “B-but, I think… we could go anywhere, really, I want to see it all.”

“You just say the word, sweetheart.”

“N-not right now,” Alfred said, looking small suddenly, and a little scared. “I’d… like it if we just stayed home for a little while longer.”

Herbert tried not to gush too much about the fact that Alfred had just called the castle ‘home’. Outwardly, at least. On the inside he was gushing plenty. 

“I think I can wait a little while for more excitement too,” he muttered darkly, before brightening again. “And, I did promise to play for you!”

Oh, he’d have to check that the music-room was clean again before showing it to Alfred. 

Dammit.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things
> 
> 1) Alfred was supposed to fall down (again). It didn't happen. I'm sorry
> 
> 2) They were supposed to go to Paris. That didn't happen either
> 
> 3) THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THIS ANGSTY AT ALL AND I AM SO VERY SORRY?? But happy ending right! Riiight....


	3. lakes and rivers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic continues to be Kyra and Shirin and Katt's and Cayenne's fault. Soon with four chapters. Dammit

 

Alfred woke up buried alive. It was quiet and dark all around him, and there was hardly any air left in the tight space creeping in, walls shrinking until he could hardly move. He _couldn’t_ move, not even when he struggled, desperate to escape. He tried to draw breath into his lungs, but none would come, and he was gasping and panicking, his heart beating too fast, his lungs burning. 

Someone was yelling his name, and Alfred woke up with the sound of it ringing in his ears. He gasped, and blinked, and still couldn’t see, his eyes not able to adjust, even if they found relief in the new darkness of his surroundings. Someone had a tight grip on his shoulders, nails digging in, leaving marks even through the shirt he was wearing. Someone was still yelling his name – he guessed it was the same someone holding on to him, but he couldn’t… 

He reached up to grasp the wrist of the person, and blinked again. Oh. It was Herbert. Of course. 

“Alfred?!” his voice was frantic, Alfred realised, like something was going horribly wrong. Herbert usually called him by name only if it was important or he wanted his full attention. Alfred blinked again. He wasn’t sure he was quite awake yet. “Alfred, please…”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, even though he knew Herbert always complained about how much he apologised. He really didn’t mean to be such an inconvenience, but for once, Herbert didn’t seem to mind: at least, he seemed to be frowning down at Alfred for completely different reason. He didn’t seem mad at him, but there was still panic in his eyes, and normally it would not have taken Alfred this long to notice it – that thought was starting a bit of a panic in him as well, and his grip on Herbert’s wrist tightened slightly. 

“Are you alright?” Herbert still sounded like something was so very wrong, even though Alfred had opened his eyes now and everything. 

“Y-yes,” he mumbled. “I think so.”

Herbert made a low sound and leaned over him, burying his face in Alfred’s neck and then he just… stayed there, his body a comforting weight, even if his grip was slightly too tight. It reminded Alfred slightly of…

Oh. He’d been having a nightmare.

“What happened?”

“You were screaming,” Herbert whispered, breath cold against his neck. “And I couldn’t wake you up.” He sounded strangely broken up about that, more than Alfred thought he had heard in a while – not since the village had burned, almost taking him and Sarah with it. 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said, and yelped when Herbert suddenly bit down, right where his pulse used to be. 

“No fangs,” he said, when he had let Alfred go again, and then he licked at the spot, which made Alfred go hot all over, and squirm a bit, though Herbert was still holding him too tightly for him to move much. Not that he really wanted to move, either. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t… oh. Sorry,” Alfred said, and then sighed at himself. “I know, I just…” He trailed off, closing his eyes, frustrated when it seemed like sleep really was too far away now. He would have liked a few more, nightmare-free hours, but it seemed they would not come. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Herbert’s voice broke through his reverie, and Alfred opened his eyes again.  

“What?”

“The nightmare?”

“Oh. I… I don’t really know. I don’t really… remember it.”

Herbert sighed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you can just tell me.”

“I… no, I don’t remember...”

“Alfred.”

He blinked, feeling awfully embarrassed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Herbert lifted himself up, so that he could look at Alfred, who quickly cast his eyes away, staring at the ceiling. 

“You,” Herbert said, though Alfred was still looking the other way. “Are impossible, did you know that?” 

“I don’t mean to be.” Alfred confessed, feeling shameful that he was causing so much trouble for Herbert, and not even on purpose. He really didn’t know why Herbert even put up with him – but he was glad that he did. Especially now, when he was still reeling from his nightmare. “I really don’t.”

“I know,” Herbert’s voice was low like he was telling Alfred a secret, one hand running through his hair, and then trailing it down his chin, over and touching his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Alfred couldn’t help but smile, even if it was only a small one that seemed to leave him exhausted. “That’s a silly question, Herbert.”

He looked affronted, one thumb sweeping over Alfred’s lips. “No it’s not,” he said, but then Alfred leaned up and kissed him hard, one hand grasping at the back of his neck, suddenly feeling scared like he had been in the nightmare again. He pulled back, and Herbert followed him halfway down, before stopping himself, looking slightly dazed. It made some of the dark cloud whisk away again, and he couldn’t help but giggle at the look on Herbert’s face. 

That seemed to snap the older vampire back to attention, and he smiled widely down at Alfred. “You have no idea how much I like it when you do that,” he said, and even though his words were happy, Alfred felt his unbeating heart clench. 

“But I don’t like it when you do _that_ ,” Herbert said then, smoothing his thumb over the lines on Alfred’s forehead as he frowned. “Desist. Now.”

Alfred grinned at Herbert’s words, effectively doing as he asked. Then he grew quiet again. “I bet you don’t like it when I keep you up either. I’m sor…”

“No.”

“Ah.”

“I will leave this coffin if you say it.”

“No, you won’t.”

“… I probably won’t, but I will be sulking for a very long time.”

Alfred smiled again. “I don’t like it when you’re unhappy,” he said, because he’d discovered a few days ago that saying he didn’t like something was a good way to get Herbert to stop doing it: he could at least use this odd factor as a way to keep someone who took such good care of him happier. 

He was expecting some teasing comeback about being the happiest when Alfred used his mouth for things other than speaking, but Herbert only stared at him, slightly wide-eyed. He suddenly grew uncertain about what he’d said, shy and uncomfortable, and still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Had he said something wrong? Who was he to dictate how Herbert should be feeling anyway? Oh, he shouldn’t have said it. 

“I…” he started, but then Herbert kissed him, and he completely forget everything but the softness of his lips and the brush of his hair against his knuckles, as Alfred reached up to cling for dear life. He’d never been so happy that he didn’t need to breathe anymore. It was definitely coming in handy right now. 

Herbert pulled away and shifted them slightly, still holding him close, one hand running up and down his back. It was a comforting, lulling gesture, and Alfred thought he might be able to drift off again, if it wasn’t for the gnawing sensation in his gut, a leftover of the minutes before he was woken. 

“I was buried alive,” he said then, and feeling the words come out was an odd relief. Herbert stilled against him. “I… in the dream, I mean. The nightmare.” He pressed his face closer to Herbert’s chest. “It’s strange. I’ve… I didn’t have nightmares really, since I was a kid. I had them a lot at the orphanage, and early on in school, and I’d have weird dreams often, but never… I think the first nightmare I had since I was very little was my first night in this very castle. Probably all the… I-I want to say excitement, but if I’m being honest…”

“You were frightened,” Herbert mumbled, his voice sounding strange: Alfred wondered if it bothered him that much, how reluctant and scared he’d been at the start. Probably. It couldn’t be nice, having someone you cared for once fear you like little else in the world. “Darling… I… do you remember your nightmare?”

“That first one?” Alfred frowned, recalling the dream. “Yes. It was about your father, and you, and Sarah. W-we were turned, her and I. It’s almost silly: I remember I woke up with the Professor’s crucifix in my hand, as if it had been real and I’d been trying to fend you all off.”

Herbert was breathing, Alfred realised – not the way he usually did, the quiet habit and need for air to speak making his chest lift in a mimicry of what was needed when he was alive. His breath was harsh now, as if his lungs were suddenly crying out for air. And then it stopped again, and he went completely still.   

“Alfred,” Herbert said then, and something in his voice made Alfred feel wide-awake. “Remember when I told you that we could hypnotise people?”

“Yes,” Alfred said, remembering early when he had first come to the castle, and had started feeling comfortable, and curious, enough to start quizzing Herbert about all the different natures of vampire life. Or unlife, as it were. 

“Do you remember when I told you I’d never done it to you?”

He did remember that. Herbert had also told him that being a vampire meant he had an extraordinary degree of memory, that while it would by no means be perfect, it would now be much more like a set of drawers, to be opened at leisure, old memories to be rifled through, looking as sharp as the moment they had happened, as long as he took his time to remember them again. 

And then it clicked. 

“Oh.”

“Sweetheart…” Herbert started to say, his voice apologetic, and Alfred didn’t need to breathe, but he _needed air._

He crawled out of the coffin, hardly even registering how quickly Herbert let him go, and practically ran out of the crypt, though he stopped once he reached the hallway. He found himself just standing there, thankful that the drapes had been pulled and the sunlight from outside hadn’t hit him. Dust was floating in the air, and the faint shine from behind the curtains illuminated one of the old portraits hanging on the wall. It was of a woman, with golden skin and pale blonde hair that set itself even more apart in contrast, her eyes shaped like Herbert’s and her chin round like his too. Alfred had seen it before, and Herbert had told him, even though he had already guessed, that it was a portrait of his mother. It had been painted after her death, and even though Alfred had experienced the near-perfection of vampire-memories, he wondered how true a likeness it was. He would have liked to be able to judge for himself – for several reasons. 

He wondered if she would have been horrified, or proud of her son. It had taken Alfred a while, but now he had a hard time imagining ever feeling terrified and disgusted by Herbert. He hadn’t known him, back then, had only seen him through the eyes of someone unexperienced and frightened, entering a world he knew nothing about save how dangerous it was. He knew Herbert now, knew the feel of his lips on his inner thigh, and the sounds he made when Alfred wrapped himself around him, and he knew how he threw his head back and laughed with his whole body, and that his hair had pale and gold colours swirling in them, like a sea of grain and dandelions in low candlelight. He knew that he got invested in things so completely it was hard to pull him out again, that his current favourite book was some thick volume on poetry, in a language Alfred had never even seen before, that he played the piano and the violin, and that he was kind to those he loved. He knew Herbert. 

Or, at least, he’d thought that he did. 

The sound of footsteps behind him broke him out of his reverie, and he turned slowly, not at all surprised to see it was the very vampire in his thoughts that had followed him up here. 

“If you want me to leave you alone, I will,” Herbert said, before Alfred could gather himself enough to untie his tongue. “But I need you to know that I would never play with your mind like that now. I swear.”

Alfred felt foolish for believing him, a voice sounding remarkably like the Professor yelling at him in his mind. _Don’t, Alfred. He’s a vampire. A damned soul. And this is what they do._

_You’re damned too._

“Why did you do it?”

“You think Father didn’t know what you were up to when you first got here?” Herbert asked, a hard glint in his eyes. “We have quite a great deal of enemies. And you and your dear Professor aren’t the first ones to discover our existence, or theorize about it, or think it’s your place to take a stand. There have been… mass hysterics in the past, some justified, some not at all. We invited you into our homes for amusement, and to assess the enemies, and because I was bored.”

Alfred felt like he had just swallowed burning coal. “You were bored.”

“Yes,” Herbert said, unrelenting. “I was very bored, and you were so very pretty, and interesting, and I wanted you all for myself. I didn’t exactly hide that, so don’t be surprised. And Father thought, if one of them is most likely to corrupt, it’s going to be the young, insecure one, and because you represented such a good reprieve from my boredom, I volunteered to try.”

There was a short silence after that, in where Alfred could only stare at Herbert, until he realised the hard mask on his face was cracking, and echoes of pain was shining through. But he was waiting for Alfred to say something, clearly: he just wasn’t sure what he was going to say. 

The thought of anyone playing with his mind was beastly, and disgusting, and the picture Herbert was painting of himself early in their acquaintance was something his mind immediately rebelled against, because it was everything he had thought of Herbert, and everything he thought he had come to discover was false. He didn’t want that image of the vampire to be brought back so harshly – he didn’t want to look at Herbert and see a monster, he _couldn’t._

“Are you still bored now?” was what he ended up saying, surprising himself when his voice remained oddly steady, though it was weak as a whisper. 

“No,” Herbert immediately said, and though Alfred knew that words were only as good as the person who said them, he felt relieved immediately. “Sweetheart, no, you must know that…”

“I know that there isn’t… I know you don’t, that you don’t look at someone and fall in love with them just like that.” He’d thought he had fallen in love with Sarah, could fall in love with Sarah just by looking at her, and he’d had proof how naïve that had been. Somehow, he’d been naïve enough to think it again, to think that Herbert’s feelings had run deep from the moment they met, even if his own initial response had been unfavourable towards such a sentiment. But that was not what was bothering him the most. 

“Why did you lie?” he could hardly get the words out now. “Why didn’t you… I asked and you told me no, you lied to my face, about violating _my mind_.”

“Because I knew you would react like that,” Herbert said, sounding defensive and tired. “Because I wanted to keep you for a little while longer.”

“Keep me.” Somehow, those words hurt more than almost any other Alfred had ever had spoken to him. _‘I wanted you for myself’._

Herbert closed his eyes and leaned his head back slightly: he looked different, in this light, late afternoon growing darker. He looked paler, and even less alive, though it could be the circumstances making Alfred look at him differently. 

“This is not the worst thing I have ever done,” he said then. “Far from it. So if you want to stay, if you want to stay with _me_ , you should be prepared for some nasty truths being sprung upon you now and again. I’m not going to make you a list – it would be too long. I’m not going to ease you into it all at once, because they are my secrets and truths to tell, and I…” he stopped talking suddenly, opening his eyes again, and suddenly Alfred found that he looked much younger, somehow. “I’m a _vampire_ , Alfred. I’ve lived many ages and I’ve had little conscience. If you want to stay, then you need to realise that.”

_If you want to stay._

This was it then. They were finally kicking him out. Oh, he felt even more foolish now, for clinging to the hope that he had finally found the people he would spend the rest of eternity with, that he’d finally found a home. Naïve as always. 

But it was not only that: looking at Herbert now, eyes dark and glinting, he was not sure that he could take one step closer. The portrait behind him seemed to bore holes into the back of his head, and Alfred wondered if she would have stayed, with her doomed family. If Sarah could have eased her own mother into things, if they could have accepted each other again. If Magda had people, breathing, living people, missing her. 

If Herbert was still _bored_ , and craving something to ease it until the amusement of his new plaything went away again. 

“Then I’m not sure I can stay,” he said, and Herbert turned around without another word, and walked away from him.

*

Alfred went to Königsberg first. 

It seemed appropriate, somehow, and though he had been reluctant at the idea at first, now Alfred did not see any other place for him to go. On his way there, he realised that he truly did want to see the city again, and he wanted to see if the Professor was there as well. He wryly thought that maybe he’d say hello by trying to stake him, but he really hoped that wouldn’t happen. 

The city stood the same as it had the last time he had been there, and it was so strange, when he felt so changed. No-one seemed to recognize him either, perhaps on account of him remaining anonymous throughout most of his life here. Or it could be the new, much more expensive clothes that he’d brought with him, or the fact that he now only came out at night. 

A whole new crowd roamed the streets at night, and Alfred had only been back for three days before meeting a vampire, only traveling through. The girl looked no older than fifteen, with dark hair that shone almost purple under the shine of the moon, and she tipped her wide hat at him as she walked past, flashing her fangs. He didn’t see her again, and Alfred felt lonely – he would have liked to know her name, at least. 

He grew hungry not soon after that, and realised his mistake in leaving so abruptly, but it wasn’t long before he discovered that animal-blood worked as well as human, even if it tasted bitter in comparison. Alfred could deal with it – and he could keep the hunger at bay, and not accidentally injure anyone. 

It was the sight of the vampire that made him decide to seek out the Professor. Apparently, he had gotten out of Transylvania alive, and had arrived back in Königsberg, although he had only stayed briefly, before moving on. Alfred was afraid the trail would go cold after that, but then he remembered the list of potential ‘vampire-infested’ places, as the Professor had called them, and decided that a check-list was as good as any. 

He ended up in Germany, though Essen did not seem to have any vampires in it at first. Eventually, Alfred was approached by a tall man with drooping eyes and a beard that seemed too large for his face. Antonio had a laugh that seemed too large for his very body as well, and while Alfred liked his company, and the company of his three ‘daughters’ well enough, he found himself growing restless after only a week. The four of them had not seen the Professor, and Alfred realised that he still wanted to find him, if only because he had now set himself that goal. 

There was a letter waiting from Magda in Berlin, and Alfred had about five seconds to wonder how she knew where he was, before he burned it, and then promptly regretted the decision as he watched the paper fade and curl amidst the flames. 

In Denmark he befriended a tall woman named Anna, who plucked her first strand of grey hair and solemnly gave it to him, before breaking down in laughter at the confused look on his face. She offered him a job at the inn she was running, and Alfred found a relief in the work, and she found a relief in finally having someone who could manage her accounts for her, without messing it up as gloriously as her nephew seemed to do. Alfred stayed there for longer than he meant to, washing her dishes and eating human food and pretending. When a young student got too drunk one particularly rowdy evening, Anna asked Alfred to follow the young boy home, and in the pale moonlight, the veins in his throat stood out like lines of silk, so soft it had to be touched. 

Alfred dropped the student on his bed, a drop of blood spilling onto the sheets, and he fled the building feeling rushed and alive, and well-fed. 

The student was still alive, but Alfred was acutely aware that he _wasn’t,_ and he left the next day without a word to his new friend, leaving only a drawing of the hills and trees behind her inn that she had seemed to love, always dragging him along for moonlight walks. He wondered if perhaps she had known, never once wondering at his reluctance to move outside in sunlight. 

In Sweden there was nothing, and in Norway, the Professor’s grave stood tall, his name hurriedly etched into the stone, because whoever had done it had not properly known him, and had not cared much for his fate. Alfred wanted to cry, but found that he couldn’t. 

*

_Long fingers were trailing up the bare skin of his arm, a cool touch that distracted him from the quiet nap he was taking._

_“Hmmm,”_

_“Do I have to kiss you awake?” Herbert had already leaned forward, his lips moving over the shell of Alfred’s ear, and he shivered at the sensation._

_“I-I w-wouldn’t mind.” Alfred said, and sighed. “Oh, damn.”_

_Herbert’s body shook with laughter. “Ssshh, Sleeping Beauty hasn’t had the kiss yet, so it’s still sleepy-time.”_

_“You did not just say ‘sleepy-time’.”_

_“I can still hear talking. No kiss if there’s talking.”_

_“I am hardly Sleeping Beauty…” Alfred said, about to open his eyes, but then he was being kissed, and he might not have been asleep, but he figured he wouldn’t mind being woken like this in the future._

_“Awake yet?” Herbert asked as he pulled back, and Alfred could_ hear _him grinning like a shark. He opened his eyes._

_“As I said,” he mumbled. “I hardly count for Sleeping Beauty.”_

_Herbert pouted. “But,_ Mon Cheri _, you’re sometimes asleep, and you’re always beautiful.”_

_“That makes no sense.”_

_“What’s that? Are you falling asleep again? Oh, bother, I’m going to have to kiss you some more.”_

_*_

Alfred got back to Königsberg, and found another letter from Magda, waiting for him at the same inn he’d stayed at last time. It had been there apparently, since a few days after he’d left, the inn-keeper too unsure to have just thrown it out. He seemed relieved when Alfred came back to take the letter from him, as if its very presence was somehow toxic. Silly superstition – but Alfred had once been the same.                

It was heavy, with several papers folded in. Alfred was treated to about three pages with ranting on how he had just up and left without saying goodbye to anyone, two pages on how great they were all doing without him, and about five that seemed to be the complete opposite, and changed rapidly between cursing him to the deepest darkest pits of hell, and applauding him for taking some initiative with his own fate. 

The last page was the most sobering however. Magda was not one to go into detail, but there was plenty to be read between the lines, and Alfred got the strange sense that, perhaps for the first time in his life, and unlife, he was being severely _missed_ , not just for his talents or work or help, but simply for himself. 

He sat down on the bed and for the first time let himself feel the ache in his chest. He’d almost convinced himself it was the feeling of betrayal, but it was homesickness, without a doubt. He missed Magda, and Sarah, and even the Count. He missed the grand old library, and his room, the music-room, the tower, and the drawing-set Herbert had gotten him. 

He missed Herbert. By everything holy, and perhaps even unholy, he missed Herbert like someone had physically ripped a piece of his heart from him, and left it somewhere far away where he couldn’t even bury and mourn it properly. 

Alfred had spent a large part of his life being confused, uncertain about everything from what courses to take to which way exactly was the quickest to and from the university. But if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he had come to love Herbert, like one loves the very best of their existence, and he had willingly walked away from him. And he regretted that. 

Another thing in Magda’s letter, was what appeared to be a calendar of sorts, and as far as Alfred could take from it… 

It seemed like she and Herbert would be in Paris for the next few weeks. 

*

_“No,” Herbert placed his own hand over Alfred’s, moving it so that the pencil marked a new line across the paper. “Like this.”_

_“Ah,” Alfred mumbled, too absorbed in his work to feel much embarrassment about sitting between the older vampire’s legs, pressed up with his back to Herbert’s chest. It was a comfortable position even, though he had been worried that Herbert wouldn’t be sitting well like this at all: when he’d voiced that worry, when Herbert had first sat down behind him, he had only looked at Alfred with a lifted eyebrow and a mischievous glint in his eyes._

_“Oh, trust me, darling, I won’t mind,” he’d said, and proceeded to place himself in Alfred’s personal space, in the best way possible, his chin hooked over his shoulder to see what he was drawing._

_“This would be easier if you could stand still,” Alfred told the horse very seriously as it bent its long neck again to reach some of the hay on the floor. Herbert laughed behind him, his breath tickling at his temple. His hand was still over Alfred’s, his thumb caressing the soft skin at his wrist now, and Alfred was flustered enough to drop his pencil on the paper, flushing slightly._

_“Herbert…”_

_“Do you want to go inside?” Herbert’s voice was low, and Alfred could feel every line and curve of Herbert’s body pressed against his own._

_“Yes. I mean. D-definitely yes.”_

*

Magda made an unholy sound when she saw him again, and before Alfred could blink, she’d run over and hugged him, gathering him in a flurry of red curls and heavy skirts that almost toppled him over. He hugged her back, because he had missed her, and he wanted her to know that. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, pulling away, and then her eyes narrowed, and for just a moment, Alfred saw his whole life – and unlife – flash before his eyes. “Don’t ever just take off like that again.”

“I… I’m sorry. 

“It’s not _me_ you need to apologise to,” she said, but then stopped. “Actually, I’d like an apology as well.”

“I’m sorry I just took off.”

“You damn well better be. But apology accepted.” She squeezed his shoulder, and Alfred felt relief at her forgiveness. But Magda still wasn’t smiling, and he almost didn’t want to look at her – he almost wished he hadn’t come. 

“So… is Herbert..?”

“He’s here,” she said. “I… I told him that I send the letters, and that you might come, but…”

“How is he?”

Magda gave him a glare. “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?”

“Magda, please.”

“Magda, have you seen my jacket, it’s not… oh,” the door had swung open, and Herbert was standing there, frozen in place as he stared at Alfred, who suddenly wanted to hide. Magda’s grip on his arm tightened dangerously, as if she knew exactly what his panicking mind was thinking. 

“Hello,” he said, and felt like a fool, but then Magda was letting go of him, walking out of the room and Herbert was walking forward and suddenly he was _close_ , and Alfred could feel his veins singing in pleasure and relief. He’d reached out to touch him before he could even stop himself, and then he was truly close, enfolded in his arms again. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, and for once, Herbert said nothing in rebuttal. “I’m… I missed you, I’m _sorry_.” 

Herbert still said nothing, only held him close, and Alfred closed his eyes tightly, shutting out the rest of the world and trying to forget the last few months _away_ from him. Maybe if he pretended hard enough, they wouldn’t have even happened. 

But they had happened, and they had happened for a reason. 

Herbert was still silent, and it was starting to unnerve Alfred a great deal. He pulled away slowly, still gripping at Herbert’s shirt, afraid that he would let go of him. He didn’t. He didn’t look at him either. 

“Herbert,” Alfred said, and then his eyes snapped to his, as if he couldn’t help it anymore. 

“It’s good to see you again,” Herbert said, and then he let go of him and Alfred felt like he was being put off-balance, the whole world turning. “Excuse me, I need to go find my jacket.”

*

“This is creepy,” Alfred muttered, following Magda around a corner and shuddering at the empty eye-sockets of the skull, peering out at the wall from him. There were hundreds, thousands of them. “Are they truly speaking of opening this to the public?”

“Please, it’ll attract tourists like flies to honey,” she said, stepping closer to the arrangement in the world. “It’s strange, isn’t it. You can’t tell them apart now. Not in death.”

“Are you getting all philosophical now?” Alfred teased her, mainly to distract himself from his own apprehension about being down here. Not to mention that the catacombs weren’t just open for anyone, and they could get caught, but they were also surrounded by hundreds, thousands of dead people, and it was perhaps silly that it should freak out a vampire, but it _did_ freak him out. The place was dark and dank and cold, and he hadn’t had time to get used to it, like he had the crypt back at the castle. 

Magda ignored him, reaching out and gently touching one of the skulls on the forehead, her finger scraping dust and dirt off it. Alfred shuddered – it almost looked like the skull was smiling, teeth appearing too-wide with no lips to hide them. 

“Do you think he hates me?” Alfred asked then, not able to keep it in anymore. Magda sighed. 

“Alfred, it’s been three hours. Give him some more time to get his head around the fact that you’re back.”

The words seemed to hit where it hurt. “What if he… what if he can’t forgive me?”

At that, she righted herself up, turning her face to look at him over her shoulder. “Have you forgiven him?”

“Um.” He clenched his hands in the long scarf he was wearing, looking down at the ground beneath his feet. “I-I… t-that’s… do you know what happened?”

Magda sighed again. “Herbert tells me almost anything, and with you gone, there weren’t that many others he could talk to, was there?”

“Oh,” if she was trying to make Alfred feel as awful as possible, well, she was succeeding. But he knew Magda to be blunt and honest, and not necessarily out to hurt him. He’d asked, and she’d answered, believing that he deserved the truth. 

_The truth._ Magda wouldn’t lie to him. Or at least, he thought she wouldn’t. Just like he’d thought Herbert wouldn’t. 

And that was the case in a nutshell, wasn’t it. 

“Not completely,” he said. “Not… I mean, I think I have, but I think I need to talk to him.”

“Yes,” now she turned around completely, and walked up to him. “That is exactly what you need to do. Was that really so hard to figure out?”

Alfred smiled and looked down again. “I suppose,” he said. “I wasn’t… it’s just that he walked away so abruptly, and I…”

“He’s missed you,” Magda said. “Don’t for a moment doubt that, at least.” 

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and Herbert appeared around the corner. Alfred was surprised to see him – Magda had dragged Alfred with her down here almost as soon as Herbert had walked away, and he had been glad for the distraction, even though a larger part of him had wanted to follow Herbert: he didn’t want to be away from him right now. 

But he did not even look at Alfred once, instead directing his attention directly to Magda. “I thought I told you to wait for me,” he said, pouting slightly. The pain and wonder that had been on his face last Alfred had seen him, had seemed to melt away completely, and Alfred could not read anything lying under the façade. He ignored his own hurt, and realised that he had hoped for this to be quick and easy – he had hoped that Herbert would simply take him into his arms, and all would be well again. 

But Herbert wouldn’t even look at him. 

“Sorry,” Magda said, grinning slightly. “Alfred just couldn’t _wait_ to see the catacombs.” 

Alfred made a face, and caught Herbert’s smile out of the corner of his eye: it seemed to give him an odd kind of strength, and he didn’t hesitate to walk forward, even if it was only by one step. 

“Can I talk to you?” he asked, his voice low in the darkness of their surroundings. The walls felt like they were closing in, suddenly. It was almost like his nightmare. 

For a moment, he almost thought that Herbert would continue to ignore him, or perhaps dismiss him: his face had a look of boredom, something almost like disdain in his eyes. But then it slipped away, and he nodded, turning around and walking back out the way he came. It took Alfred half a second, and a hard nudge from Magda, to realise that he was supposed to follow. 

He hurried after him, up into the cold night air: Herbert had wandered over to the Seine, looking over the water, and Alfred hesitated before going over to stand beside him. 

To his surprise, it was Herbert that spoke first. 

“Magda said she sent a letter to Königsberg.” He said. “Did you go there?”

“Y-yes,” Alfred stuttered. “I… I wanted to see if the Professor had gone back. And I… I wanted to see the town.”

“Was it like you remembered it?”

“Not really.” He felt a bit more at ease now, with Herbert clearly willing to talk with him – even if they were not discussing the real heart of the matter, but dancing around it like they were too frightened to touch. Alfred did not want to be frightened – not when he was with Herbert. “The Professor wasn’t there either.” He hesitated, the words feeling odd to even think, but: “He’s dead.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

Alfred frowned. “Are you truly?”

“No,” Herbert’s voice was cold. “He did not treat you as you deserve, and he would have killed me and my entire family if he had had his way. I care little for his fate.”

Alfred flinched. “Herbert...”

The older vampire turned to him, the moon making his eyes gleam strangely. “Surprised, darling? You know what I am. Even if you did not before, you know now – you know it so well that you left, is that not true, sweetheart?”

Now it was Alfred who could not meet Herbert’s gaze, instead looking down at his feet. His mouth felt dry, and he could feel tears press behind his eyelids. 

“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he said. “I thought you would prefer it if I left.” 

“No,” Herbert said. “Don’t try to turn this around on me, I never said…”

“But you did,” suddenly the anger that Alfred had been doing his best to ignore welled up in him: he lifted his gaze along with it, looking Herbert in the eyes. “You lied to me, and then you dumped the horrible truth on me, and got upset when I wouldn’t accept it, couldn’t process it right away. You didn’t give me any time to… to recover, and you made me feel isolated and belittled, and I still spent every single minute away from you wishing that I hadn’t gone.” He clenched his hands. “You expected me to become horrified, and so you acted like it was a pre-emptive, and I don’t… I’m not like you, Herbert, I’m not used to this world, I’m not used to _anything_ , and all I heard that day was you asking me to leave if I couldn’t accept what you had just told me, and in that moment, I _couldn’t_.”

“If you couldn’t, then you were right to leave,” Herbert said, but some of the heat in his voice had been lost along the way. “That was all I told you.”

“Are you trying to get me to leave again?” he was so frightened of the answer that he became dizzy, but the look on Herbert’s face was somehow even worse. 

“No,” he said. “Alfred…”

“Because I want to stay,” he continued, his voice trembling. “I-I… I want to belong somewhere. I don’t want to… I don’t want you crawling in my brain, and I don’t want to hear all a-about the things you’ve done, the things I know that you don’t regret, but I also don’t want you to lie to me!”

Herbert’s eyes were hard as stone. “It appears we have reached an impasse, then.”

“W-what?” Alfred could feel his heart sinking in his chest. “No… I’m…” Herbert wasn’t looking at him now, and Alfred realised that he was crying in that same moment. “Oh. Herbert, I… I’m sorry.”

He thought that he meant to leave, but then he was being pulled in by Herbert, enfolded in soft silk and strong arms. Herbert buried his face in Alfred’s hair and mumbled something he couldn’t hear, and Alfred hoped to god that he wasn’t frustrated, wasn’t doing this out of pity for the poor lonely boy crying in front of him, but in that short moment, he couldn’t get himself to care. He clung to Herbert, and thought that maybe if he pressed himself close enough, Herbert would never be able to let him go again.

*

When they got back to the house they were staying at, Herbert kissed him once, almost furiously so, leaving Alfred slightly delirious when he pulled away. He walked in without waiting for him, retreating to his own room, and Alfred was not sure if he wanted him to follow this time or not. 

He ended up doing it anyway, and Herbert pulled him close on the bed in there, kissing him again. And again, and again. Alfred only held on and returned the sentiments, wanting to ask what Herbert had been doing while he was away, wanting to tell about what _he_ had been doing, but too unsure to start when Herbert did not ask. 

Alfred pressed closer and pretended it was alright. 

*

Magda shattered the illusion the very next night. 

“He’s waiting for you to leave again,” she said, paying too much attention to brushing her hair, avoiding Alfred’s look. “He doesn’t want to force you to stay, so he hasn’t said anything. But he thinks this is going to keep happening.”

Alfred bit his lip. “I… I don’t want to leave.”

“But you can’t guarantee that you won’t?”

He hesitated. “I… I still don’t know how I feel about…” this was ridiculous. He’d had time now, to come to terms with it. He knew he was a vampire – a part of him even accepted it, a part that was growing larger every day. But somehow, he had a harder time accepting it about Herbert. Or perhaps he just had trouble accepting that he could love someone he had once classified as a monster. 

_This wasn’t a problem before,_ he told himself, and wondered what had changed so suddenly.

If perhaps it was him that had changed. 

“He’s going to keep letting you come back, every time,” Magda said then. “Because he’s pathetically in love with you.” She raised her chin, staring at the mirror in front of them. It held no reflection – it had long since stopped being discontenting to Alfred. Or so he told himself, at least.

“So I think, either you should make it clear that it’s not going to work between the two of you, or you promise him that you will always – and I mean always, Alfred – come back to him, whenever you feel the need to stretch your legs and be on your lonesome.”

Alfred swallowed harshly past the lump in his throat. “He doesn’t…” but he did not even know what he wanted to say. It seemed like everyone was giving him ultimatums these days, and Alfred simply wanted to drop it all on the floor and say to hell with it – but he knew an impulsive reaction like that would end up being one he regretted. And he had eternity to regret, now. 

*

Herbert was asleep in his coffin, when Alfred snuck in, in the wee hours of the day. He looked oddly young and vulnerable in his sleep, not reacting at all when Alfred slid the lid off and looked down at him. He was fast away in the dream-world, and Alfred was suddenly reminded of the last time he had done this – with a stake in his hand. 

He didn’t want to go get a stake – he wanted to crawl in there and fall asleep up against him, and be near him, and never have to worry about anything ever again. But for the first time, he wasn’t sure if Herbert would let him. 

Alfred reached down gently and placed a hand on his shoulder. Herbert’s eyes snapped open immediately, and he stared at Alfred in slight surprise, before he smiled, soft and sweet and not at all as radiant as he usually did.

“Hello, _Liebling_ ,” he said, reaching up to pull him down, but Alfred put his hand out of reach, and Herbert sat up with a frown instead, so that they were eye-to-eye. “What’s…”

“Why did you lie?” Alfred asked, feeling like he was baring the true problem for the first time. “About the hypnotising. When I asked if you’d ever done it to me.”

Herbert’s face grew cold. “I told you already…”

“Because you ‘wanted to keep me’,” Alfred said quickly, having already practiced this conversation beforehand, and guessing what Herbert was going to say. “Yes, I know that. What else?”

Herbert lifted an eyebrow. “What else?”

“A lot of my teachers back at the university saw evil as a matter of perspective,” he said, feeling like he was reciting in front of his entire class again, and although this situation was graver, more important, he did not feel the same flashes of nervousness as he had back then. While there was little confidence to be had, he also felt like he needed to speak his piece. “One man’s monster is another man’s hero, and when the Professor and I came to the castle, we saw you as the monsters, but not even Sarah saw us as heroes, not before… either way. And we were a threat. That was true. I don’t blame you for what you did, but I also… I also don’t want to believe that you would toy with my mind and then lie about it just to… to _keep me._ That’s not… that’s not who I’ve come to know.” _That’s not who I’ve come to love._

“You’re more upset that I lied to you about the nightmare, than inducing it in the first place?” Herbert asked, his voice neutral. Alfred nodded. 

“I… I understand that, that you were bored a-and lonely,” oh, he hadn’t gotten this far when he had practiced this conversation, and he was starting to lose some of his bravado. But Herbert had not gotten angry with him or told him to leave yet, and so he continued. “And that you wanted me to stay. B-but I don’t… you make yourself _sound_ like a monster, and while you might be one to a lot of people I don’t… I-I don’t believe that you w-would… that you would be one to me. Not now at least.” He looked down at his hands, toying with the edge of his sleeve. “Or so I… I hope.”

Herbert was silent for so long that Alfred thought maybe he would never get an answer – he had not even asked a proper question, he thought. Perhaps this was too invasive – perhaps Herbert did not wish to speak with him anymore, did not want to get him this close. 

“I am very accustomed to people leaving me,” Herbert said then, startling Alfred slightly. “I have acted rashly because of the fear of repeat performances.”

Alfred became overwhelmed with distress. “And I left.” He mumbled. “I did exactly what you were scared I would do.”

“I helped you along the way,” Herbert said, sounding slightly bitter. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Oh… oh, I feel like an idiot,” Alfred furiously wiped at the tears still streaming down his face. “If you… if you promise not to lie to me again, I promise to stay.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Alfred.”

It tore at him, how sad Herbert sounded, and it was all his fault. He remembered what Magda had said. 

“I promise I’ll always come back then,” he said, conviction in his voice. “As long as you want me to.”

To his surprise, Herbert reached out and placed his hand over Alfred’s. “It’s not everything you can come back from,” he said, and he had that same look in his eyes that always appeared when he thought of the incident in the village. 

He remembered waking up, in the old barn they’d been hiding out in, seeing Herbert’s torn and burned face, and realising that he had gotten hurt protecting Alfred, had not even protested or demanded anything in return. He had fed him his blood and made sure he would recover, not even stopping to think of his own well-being. Hadn’t that been proof enough to him, that Herbert truly loved him? And what had he done to show the same – he’d left, as soon as things did not go the way he wanted. 

“I am sorry I lied to you,” Herbert said then. “And I promise, I will never lie to you again.”

And with that, the last of Alfred’s anger about that night seemed to leave him. He breathed a sigh of relief and then practically fell forward against Herbert’s chest, hiding his face in the crook of his neck, happy beyond speech when Herbert’s arms immediately went around him, keeping him safe. 

He didn’t know if Herbert still thought he might leave, but he figured that only meant he would have to spend the next part of eternity proving to him that he wouldn’t. 

*

“That one,” Herbert’s lips brushed against his hair as he spoke. They were sitting together closely on a park-bench, the lantern above them flickering in the crisp air of the evening. He was referring to an elderly woman, walking five dogs that were all seemingly much larger than her. 

“They’re not really her dogs,” Alfred said, following her with his eyes. “She’s stolen them, or picked them up when she found them on the streets, because she just loves dogs so much. Those aren’t even half of what she has. Her entire house is filled with stolen dogs.”

Herbert giggled. “It started when her parents gave her a Labrador, and then she just couldn’t stop again.”

“She probably rescued this puppy, and decided that dogs were better than people, so she surrounded herself with as many of them as possible,” Alfred had to hide his own laughter, especially when the woman came closer, nodding politely at them as she walked by. Herbert nodded back with a completely normal expression, while Alfred still had to look down and put his hands in front of his face to hide his wide smile. 

“The man with the monocle? Over there.” Herbert nodded towards the corner-shop, while trailing his fingers over Alfred’s arm, almost distracting him enough to miss the man exiting it. 

“He doesn’t really need the monocle, but he thinks it looks fancy.”

He could feel Herbert’s body shaking against his as he held in his laughter. “How many versions of that flappy coat do you think he owns?”

“Oh, at least a dozen.”

“That little girl is going to be a painter one day,” Alfred suddenly said, watching as a family of four came into view, the mother leaning down to adjust her daughter’s coat. The father had a young child hanging on his arm, draped in a bundle of clothes to keep out the cold air. “She has specks of blue on her hands, look.”

“Well spotted,” Herbert said, leaning back slightly to observe them. “Perhaps she just got into one of her parents studio?”

“She looks like someone who’d want to paint,” he mumbled, tilting his head slightly to look at Herbert. He was watching the mother, now tucking at the daughter’s scarf, to the small girls clear exasperation, with an almost fond look. 

“What was your mother like?” Alfred blurted out, looking down at his hands in embarrassment when Herbert looked at him curiously. “Nevermind. I just… Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine,” Herbert said. “I don’t remember much of her.”

“No, I know, I’m… I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Alfred,” Herbert cupped his face in one hand, making him look up again. “It’s alright.”

He gave Herbert a short, embarrassed smile, before looking away again, following the family with his eyes as they disappeared down the streets again. “I don’t… really know much about mothers.” He said. “Or any kind of…”

“Have you ever wanted to find them?” Herbert sounded as tentative as Alfred had felt asking about Herbert’s family, and it was kind of ridiculous, them dancing around it like this – he didn’t mind telling Herbert. He didn’t for one second think he would be mocked or dismissed, like he had so often before. He felt safe. 

“I think I’ve been more about them finding me,” he confessed. “You know, that they were forced to give me up, because they were in hiding or-or they had enemies or… I don’t know. They were refugees and they were being forced back to a land ravaged by war, and they didn’t want that for their son, so they swore to come back when they could. Silly stuff like that. Every orphan wants to believe they’re… alone for a reason. And not just because they were unwanted.”

Herbert stroked his cheek in a comforting gesture, that made Alfred feel slightly warm again. “Maybe you weren’t unwanted. Maybe they couldn’t take care of you, and simply wanted to give you a better chance.” 

“I suppose,” Alfred said. 

“If you could find them, would you?” Herbert asked again. 

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I mean… I think I’d like answers. I’d like to _know_. And I’d want to know who they were, their names, where they came from. Where _I_ came from.” He looked up at the night sky, finding the constellations that Herbert had helped him name. “I think it would be easier if I’d had a family, but I was never… no-one picked me, and the older you get, the less likely your chances of being picked by anyone.”

“I picked you,” Herbert gently said, smiling slightly. “I’d do it again.”

“Oh, I’m imagining your father just adopting a hoard of children now,” Alfred said, feeling some of the tension leave him – it was always painful, talking about how long he had spent believing no-one would ever love him, but it felt cleansing too, speaking of it like this with Herbert. 

The older vampire laughed, and reached out to toy with Alfred’s hair. “You know, Father does have a thing for strays. Not that I’m much better. He was worst during Alexander the Great’s reign, for some reason: I think he felt a turn of the tide. There were very few vampires at that time, even though we had been growing large in numbers right before, and we were both still relatively young as vampires, and we both craved companionship. When my mother had died, he… Alfred, what’s wrong?”

Alfred had frozen, and now he turned slowly, staring at Herbert with wide eyes. 

“Herbert, how old are you exactly?”

He frowned, but then realisation dawned. “Ah. Alfred, you must remember that I said ‘ _over_ 600 years old’ when we spoke of it last.”

“Oh _god in heaven!”_

Herbert looked worried now. “I didn’t mean to lie, darling, I simply…”

“I can’t _believe you’re this old,_ ” Alfred buried his face in his hands, and could feel his shoulders shake with his slightly hysterical laughter. Oh, this was absolutely ridiculous, but apparently Herbert reached the thousand-mark in age, and it was messing with his mind. 

“I’m sorry,” Herbert was gripping Alfred’s shoulder tightly, slight panic in his voice. “Sweetheart, I really didn’t mean to…”

“You have to tell me _everything_ ,” he breathed, thinking of the thick history volumes in the library back at the castle, some scribbled with neat writing, frustrated in its tone, a lot in languages Alfred was struggling to learn. He looked up at Herbert who blinked down at him, confused. 

“What?”

“ _Everythin_ g,” Alfred repeated, grasping Herbert’s hand tightly between his own. “Oh, everything we got wrong and what was written by the victors and… did you ever _meet_ Alexander? What cities did you see before they were destroyed? Oh, what did the mainland in Greece even look like before Roman Greece, you could draw me a map, I… _Herbert, stop laughing!”_

“This is what I get for falling in love with a history-student,” he said, still laughing like the sun was shining down without hurting him. Alfred wouldn’t admit, later, to being slightly mesmerised by the sight. 

“Yes, well,” he mumbled. “Should have known what you were signing up for.”

Herbert made a humming noise, leaning closer and pressing his cheek against Alfred’s hear. “I did, dear heart, I did.”

Alfred leaned in closer too, resting his head on Herbert’s shoulder. He was acutely aware that they were out in the open, but the small streets in this part of the town were mostly empty, save for people hurrying home and a few people having a late night, and a part of him found that he couldn’t care less about who saw them: Herbert was holding him close, and that seemed to be all that mattered. 

“I remember my mother being very kind,” he said then, surprising Alfred slightly, until he remembered his earlier question. “Father always described her as such, but I never remember her raising her voice or her hand to me, either. I wasn’t exactly the easiest child, and she was always so very patient.” He fell silent for a moment, playing with Alfred’s hair almost absentmindedly. The pleasant tug at his scalp sent small shivers down his back. “It was… hard on Father, when we lost her. But he still took care of me. I suppose it is selfish to still wish her around, when I have him.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Alfred muttered. “I don’t think you’re very selfish, at all.”

At that, Herbert let out a loud laugh. “Really?”

“Maybe very spoiled.”

“Oh, _really?”_

“We can blame that on your father, though,” Alfred said, and then frowned. “But not to his face.”

Herbert laughed again, and Alfred couldn’t help but feel pleased: if he could still make Herbert laugh, then things were not as broken as they had seemed merely a few hours ago. 

“I think she would have liked you,” he said then, growing slightly more pensive. “And I think you would have liked her, too.”

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure I would have,” Alfred mused, and Herbert’s grip on him tightened. 

*

“How deep is this water?” 

“Oh, it depends on which part of the river we’re… Alfred, don’t lean that far over the railing, you’ll… _Alfred!”_

At least, Alfred thought, spluttering even after he had been dragged out of the Seine, Herbert waited until he’d made sure he was alright, before laughing until he cried. 

*

“I’m fairly certain that this is breaking and entering,” Alfred whispered, even though they were the only ones inside the museum, and no-one was likely to hear. Herbert snorted, smiling as Alfred skittered over to one of the larger paintings, staring at it in wonder. 

“Do you want to leave?” he asked, and Alfred rolled his eyes at the smug tone he was using – Herbert knew well the answer to that. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said, knowing that he would be, with Herbert there, even if they were discovered breaking into the museum at night. Herbert had walked up so he could stand right behind him, a solid weight against his back. 

“They got the date of this one wrong,” he said, and Alfred felt excitement run through him. He turned around slightly, taking Herbert’s hand almost without thinking, and dragging him down the hall.

“What about this one?” he stopped to a halt in front of the next one, feeling warm when Herbert twined their fingers together. 

“Wrong,” he said, smiling down at Alfred. “The next one’s right. Scholars will tell you this one is accurate, but that building was destroyed a year before the scene is supposed to be set. It’s always so sad when artists don’t do their research properly.”

“Is there a picture of anyone here that you know?” Alfred asked, almost bursting with the want to _know._ Herbert’s smile was wide, and could almost be described as _giddy._

“ _I’m_ in one of these paintings.” 

“ _What?”_

“And so is Father.”

“Which one?” Alfred gaped at him, and Herbert laughed. 

“You can try and see if you can find it before the morning.”

“Oh, I’ll never find it, that could take _hours!_ Just tell me which one.”

“So impatient,” Herbert said. “Are my bad habits rubbing off on you?”

“Fine,” Alfred huffed. “If you tell me I’ll… we could do that… we could…” his mouth went dry, and it was ridiculous, because as he had already assured himself, no-one else was there apart from them, but he still leaned up to whisper in Herbert’s ear, feeling flustered at just saying it. The look of surprise and pure _want_ on Herbert’s face was almost worth it too. 

He gaped at him. “Right here?”

Alfred was pretty sure he was blushing. “I… maybe behind that pillar?”

Herbert nearly tripped them both over in his haste to get them there, and in the end they got so caught up in each other that they had to return to their rooms before seeing afore-mentioned painting. Alfred didn’t truly mind: he dragged Herbert back there the night after, and got the chance to explore the landmark more, and even surprise them both by teasing Herbert about his sixteenth-century hair. 

A repeat performance of the scene behind the pillar almost did get them discovered that time however, as they were close to being too busy to notice the guard, and Alfred was absolutely mortified at the whole deal, though Herbert’s clear amusement helped ease it a little bit. 

“Enjoying Paris?” he asked him the next evening, as he joined him on the balcony outside. 

“Yes,” Alfred said, looking out at it from their view up high. “Very much so. It’s a very beautiful city.”

“Mhmmm,” Herbert muttered in agreement, though he was looking at Alfred instead, his arm snaking around his shoulders. “The city of love, they call it.”

“How poetic,” Alfred ignored the butterflies in his stomach, knowing that Herbert was still looking at him with that intense look he sometimes got, and that Alfred wasn’t sure he could decipher. 

“We’re… Magda and I are speaking of returning home, soon,” Herbert said. “Sarah was supposed to go with us here, but she changed her mind at the last moment. I fear she gets restless, and leaves Father all alone, and I would rather not have that.”

“That might be a good idea,” Alfred said. “I’m starting to miss the library.”

Something in Herbert’s demeanour loosened, his tension fading away so suddenly. “Just the library?” he asked, a smile on his face. 

“… and my bed.”

“I miss your bed too, _Liebling_ ,” he said, running his soft lips over Alfred’s forehead. He felt his eyes slide closed at the gesture. “Alfred… can I ask you for something?”

He was hesitating, and it snapped Alfred back to attention. “What is it?”

Herbert stretched out his arm in front of them, looking down at his hand. “Would you drink more of my blood?”

_“What?”_

“You…” Herbert stopped, and then withdrew his arm again. “No, forget it, darling.”

But he sounded sad, and though Alfred found the request strange, he did not want to deny Herbert anything. 

“No, it’s…” he reached out to touch Herbert’s wrist, surprised when the vampire startled slightly. “Why? I thought…” Herbert had only given him his blood when he had been weak and injured before. 

“Magda keeps calling me silly,” Herbert said then, pushing a strand of Alfred’s hair behind his ear: he hadn’t really realised how close they were until then, pressed together. “I’m… I didn’t take it well, when you left.”

Alfred felt himself quiver slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been away for a while, and you smell different, and it’s… discontenting.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“It would… matter a lot, to me. It would help, if you would… you don’t have to.”

Was Herbert _stalling_? Alfred wouldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t witnessing it right now.

“Alright,” he said, because his reluctance was only a product of his own and very petty fears, he knew, and this seemed like it mattered to Herbert – Magda’s words were still hovering at the back of his mind, and if this could help reassure Herbert that Alfred was going to stay, then it would be an easy, and small thing to do for him. 

Herbert mumbled something that Alfred thought was _thank you,_ but he was distracted by his fangs poking into his lips already, and then he was biting down, and drinking deep, Herbert whispering sweet nonsense into his ear. 

*

Alfred fell asleep on the carriage, and when he woke up, he was in his coffin back at the castle. His mind reeled for a moment, trying to sort out the different surroundings to where he had last been conscious. He felt cold. 

He crawled out, stopping a little to stare at the room. It looked just like it had when he had left, apart from his suitcase leaning against the bed, and the flower on the table, which had withered and died in his absence. No-one seemed to have gone in here since he had, apart from maybe making the bed, because Alfred wasn’t sure that he had left it as neat as it looked right now. He had a bad tendency to forget to make it, and it was even harder to remember now that he so often slept in his coffin, and also tended to sleep in Herbert’s, as well. 

Said vampire didn’t seem to be in his room however, and Alfred felt a small pang at that, already missing Herbert fiercely, even though he thought the homesickness would have lessened now that he was back. He wandered around for a bit, before almost colliding with the Count, who didn’t so much as flinch when Alfred shrieked and quickly moved away. 

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you!” he exclaimed, looking away in embarrassment. “I… I’m sorry.”

The Count only stared at him, one eyebrow quirked upwards. Alfred squirmed under his gaze. 

“A-and, uh, thank you for letting me come b-back,” he got out, suddenly feeling shy about the fact that he had just up and left, when this man had opened his home to him for so long. “A-and I apologise… I a-am very sorry for… I r-realise t-that it w-was not exactly, I mean, with H-Herbert, but it won’t happen again! I-I’m s-staying now. I-if t-t-that is a-alright.”

The Count still only stared at him, and Alfred couldn’t for the life of him see if that was amusement or disdain on his face, and it was driving him half-mad with worry. 

“Um.”

“Don’t do it again,” he said then, and Alfred breathed a sigh of relief as he walked away. He was sure he thought he saw the Count grinning, like scaring Alfred was the funniest pastime he had. Oh. Maybe it was. 

“Alfred!” a high voice carried towards him, and Alfred hardly even have time to turn around, before Sarah had crashed into him, sweeping him up in a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

“You too,” he mumbled, patting her on the back and trying not to get her wild curls in his mouth. She could kill someone with them, he thought. Maybe she already had. 

“So, where did you go? You have to tell me everything!”

“I will, later,” he hurriedly said, knowing there was no stopping her once she got started. “I’m looking for Herbert.”

“Oh, he’s in the library last I saw,” Sarah said. “We’ll talk later?”

“Yes,” he promised, before setting for the library, hoping that Herbert was there.

He was. But he wasn’t alone. 

Alfred skittered to a halt at the door, blinking in surprise. Herbert was standing with his back to him, facing a tall, young gentleman, who was smiling brightly as they spoke. He had sand-coloured hair and the bluest eyes Alfred had ever seen, and his smile showed dimples in his cheeks. 

They hadn’t noticed him, and he watched, with a feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t describe if you had paid him to, as the stranger threw his head back and laughed, reaching out and placing a hand on Herbert’s arm, his eyes glinting in a way that Alfred thought he had seen when Herbert looked at _him_.

And then the gentleman turned his eyes and looked right at Alfred. 

“Oh, is this him, then?” he called out, and Herbert swung around, a frown on his face that shifted to clear displeasure at the sight of Alfred. It knocked the very breath from him, breath that suddenly seemed vital even in his undead form, and Alfred suddenly wanted nothing more than to run away as fast as he could. Again. 

“The new one,” he walked over, standing right in front of Alfred, still smiling brightly. “I should introduce myself: my name is Jeremy Thornton.” And then he _bowed_ , and Alfred had to keep in a small yelp of surprise. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

“Y-you too,” Alfred somehow got out. “I’m…”

“Alfred, yes?”

“Yes!”

“Ah, the lovely Magda told me,” Jeremy adjusted the lapels of his coat, turning his head to blind Herbert with his smile instead. He’d walked up beside them, and Alfred’s heart sank in his chest when he saw that he was still looking like a cloud with too much thunder in it. “It’s been a while since there was someone new to see here! Used to be just Herbert and his old man!”

“When you were around, maybe,” Herbert cut in, and his tone, which froze Alfred’s very insides, didn’t seem to diminish Jeremy’s smile at all, though Alfred thought he saw a flash of something more sinister in it. 

“I’m sure Alfred and I will have plenty to talk about. Did he bite you as well…”

“I’m sure _we_ still have more to talk about,” Herbert cut in. “Alfred, if you would give us some privacy.”

“I… of course.”

“Oh, no, don’t leave on account of…”

“Alfred,” Herbert’s voice cut over Jeremy’s easily. “ _Go_.”

Alfred turned around and practically fled the library. He returned to his own room, but the unpacked suitcase and the dead roses suddenly seemed ominous, mocking him with the fact that he had left, and now that he had returned, Herbert apparently didn’t want him around anymore – or at least did not want him around where others could see. 

He was being silly, he knew, a fool even, but Herbert had only ever spoken to him like that at the peak of his anger, and those were usually only the times when Alfred had gotten himself hurt. He remembered how furious he had been after the incident with the village, but that had not been at Alfred, but at the situation at hand. To suddenly feel like the anger was directed towards him, when Alfred was fairly certain he had not done anything to warrant it…

Jeremy had been handsome, he noted, as he walked out of his room again, fleeing to the rooftop instead. And he’d been familiar with Herbert in a way that Alfred was only just starting to learn. They’d clearly known each other – for a long time. Oh, of course Herbert had wanted time alone with Jeremy, where Alfred wouldn’t be to hang and cling, and get in the way of catching up with old friends. 

He didn’t want to think about what exactly _catching up_ entailed. The harsh, cold night air didn’t help, only cleared his head for a moment before his chest started throbbing painfully again, as if his heart was trying to restart itself, only so it could properly tear apart. What was the use, he wondered, of being dead, when his insides still rebelled against him, and the blood ran as hot through his body as ever? 

But he felt cold, and while he usually hated the cold like he hated few things in this world, this time Alfred only sat on the rooftop, hands folded in his lap as he stared out, over the grounds and the lake and the forest, and wondered if this was his punishment for leaving Herbert behind. 

It seemed strangely fitting. 

“You smell like him,” Jeremy’s voice suddenly sounded behind him, and Alfred jumped about ten feet into the air, scrambling down from his spot and staring at the vampire in shock. Jeremy flashed him a grin that had Alfred backing away, before he composed himself again. 

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, what?”

“You smell like Herbert,” he said again, and stepped closer. Alfred took another step back. “Did he give you his blood?”

“Y-yes,” Alfred automatically said, even though he did not truly want to tell Jeremy _anything._

“Hmm,” finally, he stopped, his arms folded behind his back as he stared at Alfred with eyes that seemed to turn dark under the moonlight. “Interesting. You never answered my question.”

“W-what question?”

“Did he turn you?” Jeremy’s fangs flashed as he smiled again. 

“N-no.”

“You’re lying.”

Alfred blinked, unsettled and slightly insulted. “I’m not.”

“I can see why he’d want you. And what he wants, he takes.”

“O-oh, I don’t…” Alfred steeled himself. “Herbert didn’t bite me. It was someone else.”

“And then what, he took you in?” Jeremy’s smile was gone now. “Did he promise to take care of you, and made you feel like this was the one place in the world you were safe?”

“Y-ye… oh,” Alfred bit his tongue, not wanting to say any further. 

“He is lying. You can leave, whenever you want, and you should realise that. What he wants, he takes.”

“Look,” Alfred clenched his hands into fists to stop them shaking, from fear and anger both. “I-I don’t know why you’re doing this, b-but…”

“You really are a naïve one, aren’t you,” he interrupted and Alfred lost all of his bravado: he wanted nothing but for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. He cast his mind around for something to say, a question for what Jeremy was talking about, an angry rebuttal, but then Herbert stepped up on the roof, his face a mask of fury. 

“I think you’ve outstayed your welcome, Jeremy,” he said, and oh, Alfred had really only _thought_ that he’d seen Herbert angry before. 

Jeremy sighed dramatically. “And so quickly too. Is this my record time?”

“Leave,” Herbert said in the same tone he had used to dismiss Alfred with earlier, and Jeremy threw him a wide grin before slipping out, waving at Alfred as he went. 

He left them on the rooftop, staring at each other, Alfred with an unbeating heart that felt like it was racing in his chest, and Herbert with his jaw clenched and anger still on his face. 

“Did he hurt you?” Herbert asked then, and there was a genuine concern in his voice that made Alfred lose some of the tension in his frame. 

“N-no,” he said. “H-he didn’t touch me… would he have?”

“I’m not sure,” Herbert said, and sounded even angrier about that fact. “You look cold.”

Alfred raised his chin slightly. “Vampires don’t get cold.”

That almost forced a smile from Herbert. “Come on, let’s go inside,” he said, reaching out a hand. Alfred hesitated. 

“Will you tell me who that was?” he asked, and Herbert frowned again, but then he nodded, and Alfred took his hand, and let himself be led back inside. The warmth of the halls immediately seemed to soothe him. To his surprise, Herbert walked back to the library, sitting down in one of the large couches there, dragging Alfred with him. 

“His name was Jeremy, and he’s an old friend,” Herbert said.

“Friend?”

“Old lover,” Herbert mumbled, looking away. “What did he tell you?”

“He said you were a liar,” Alfred immediately muttered, feeling indignant on Herbert’s behalf. “He said t-that you… or he inferred, that you were manipulating me.”

“And do you think I am?”

“No,” he said. “Were you manipulating him, when you were… I mean, when… w-when he was here?”

Herbert sighed. “No, I was not.”

“But you turned him.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted him,” Herbert said, easy as that, and Alfred felt a hollow thud in his chest. “Is that a surprise?”

“I… I-I don’t…”

“Jeremy never forgave me, even though he enjoys this life more than his other,” Herbert went on, staring into the fireplace: he seemed to be somewhere far away. “He… he was content, with staying here, for a while. He even enjoyed it, more than I had thought he would. He was not _unhappy,_ no matter what he might have told you.”

“And then what happened?”

“Then he left,” Herbert leaned his head back slightly, closing his eyes. “I’ve told you already: many of them leave.”

_Including me_ , Alfred thought, and felt wretched. 

“A-and, did you um… are you…”

Herbert opened his eyes. “Did I what? Force him to stay? Beg him to come back?” there was a hard glint in his eyes, and Alfred wanted to hide again. 

“I was going to ask, did you love him?”

Herbert looked surprised, finally meeting his gaze. 

“No,” he said. “I wanted him. I didn’t love him.”

Alfred looked down now, studying his hands intently. He shivered when Herbert reached out and touched his chin lightly. 

“I love _you_ ,” he said, and Alfred felt warm again. 

“T-that’s good,” he mumbled, smiling when Herbert chuckled. “I… I thought you were angry with me…”

“I apologise. I didn’t mean to. I got angry when I saw him, and angrier still when he was so interested in you. I don’t trust him, and I don’t…” Herbert stopped himself with a sigh. 

Alfred leaned closer, resting his head on Herbert’s shoulder. He felt tired, suddenly, drained after their journey and after the new events. He’d thought he would be getting some peace when he got home, but apparently not. 

“How did I get into my coffin this morning?” he asked, suddenly remembering where he had woken. Herbert smiled. 

“I carried you, _Mon Cheri_.”

“Oh… oh, that was very nice.”

“You get a little clingy when you’re tired, so it was a little hard to actually get you in there.”

“Oh,” Alfred felt embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

Herbert’s body shook with laughter. “No, don’t be, I quite enjoyed it.”

Alfred huffed and pressed his face against Herbert’s neck, breathing in: he remembered what Jeremy had said, about Alfred smelling like Herbert. Perhaps he was still too unused to his new senses, but he wasn’t quite sure what that would be – still, Herbert smelled nice, and Alfred found that he really didn’t mind other vampires coming to the conclusion that Herbert had given him his blood. In fact, the thought seemed to calm him somewhat, even. They’d know who he was with. It was silly, perhaps, but at least it had seemed to matter to Herbert as well. 

“I’m not going to leave you,” he said then, feeling tired. Herbert’s arms came around him, holding him close, like always. “I don’t _want_ to leave you. Is that alright?”

“Yes, love,” Herbert’s voice sounded different, like he couldn’t quite get the words out, his voice choking up. “Yes, it is.”

“The next time I go to Königsberg, you could come with me.”

“I’d like that.”

“It’s not as beautiful as Paris, I don’t think, but it’s a very nice city.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Herbert whispered, and Alfred moved even closer, practically sitting in Herbert’s lap now. He felt better than he had in months, some yawning chasm inside of him finally closing up, stitches healing quickly. 

“If I have another nightmare…” Alfred mumbled, thinking of the last time he had fallen asleep with Herbert, in this castle. 

“I’ll wake you up,” Herbert promised, and Alfred smiled. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The catacombs of Paris opening to the public might not completely coincide with when the events of the musical happens, but since I'm not sure when _exactly_ the musical happens, it might not be too far off
> 
> \- The museum Alfred and Herbert have sex in, and where there's a painting of the Krolock's hanging somewhere, is the _Louvre_
> 
> \- Alfred dropping into the Seine is 100% Cayenne's fault, who wanted more of Alfred falling off of stuff, and if they went up in the Eiffel-tower (who might not even have been there at that time, I don't remember right now), Herbert would have not let go of him for a second for fear of exactly that, so it had to be something else
> 
> \- Herbert and his daddy being from Ancient Greece is Kyra's idea, so full credit to them for it.


End file.
